To Serve and Protect
by F12Scuderia
Summary: Erynlith has never been so clueless. Thranduil is just like any other elf prince: A jerk. A gorgeous jerk. A gorgeous, strangely mysterious jerk. A gorgeous, strangely mysterious, deliciously artistic, heart-poundingly possessive, frighteningly daring, incredibly moody, sapphire-eyed jerk. The worst kind of jerk. Love and faith are tested by time, war, and unstable reborn elves.
1. Of Songs and Letters

**Chapter 01**

_**Of Songs and Letters**_

* * *

"_O! what are you doing?_

_Erestor, you're boring!_

_Come join me for singing!_

_The river is flowing!_

_ O! tra-la-la-lally."_

Erestor did not attempt to look up from his work. He was scribbling furiously on a paper, his eyebrows etched with annoyance, as the younger elf continued to pester him with her singing. Perhaps Erestor knew why she was glaring, and decided to purposely ignore her, or he did not know, and he simply did not care. Whatever it was, his mind was set to finish what Elrond asked him of, despite being the warrior that he was also.

"You will not let me take that, will you, tra-la-la?" Erynlith asked in a singsong, looking over his shoulder.

Erestor moved the letter away from her eyes, and said, "This is not for your eyes to see. And yes, Lord Elrond will not let you deliver this message. Following what happened a few months ago, no one would send you out for sending letters ever again." He felt the need of adding a 'tra-la' at the end, but decided not to.

"Oh, but is always fun to leave the valley, tra-la-lay… oh, I rhymed!" She beamed proudly.

He felt an urge to roll his eyes at her. "Yeah, well congratulations, Eryn. Now please, leave me to my work. I have to finish this before dinner! Go pester Lindir all you want, tra-la-la."

She laughed merrily. "Like I said, you're boring today, tril-lil-lolly," then she tapped his shoulder. "What is that for anyway? Do we get to visit Lórinand again, tra-lay?"

"No," said Erestor quickly. "This is bound for the King Elendil in Gondor, and… wait! You cannot know anything about this!" He obscured the letter once again from her. "Get going, Eryn!"

But the girl only slumped back on his velvety couch, her legs crossed and her lips etched with a grin. "You have been busy of late, dear friend," she whined. "You have been away in the barracks for too long, and you know how I always miss you, tra-lo. Oh, I rhymed again!"

Erestor purposely ignored her. Elrond had trusted him of watching over this younger elf. She was a few centuries old and cheerful. Had it not been for her relatives in Lórinand, he would not take care of her. As a child she lived with him in Imladris, occasionally traveling east to visit her uncle and cousin in Lórinand.

"Erestor…" Erynlith whined again, trying to draw his attention once more. "Hurry up with your letter and come outside with me. Did you know that _eltiria_ are in bloom again in the valley? Autumn will claim them soon and you will not see them, tra-la."

Suddenly, Erestor jerked up from his seat and pounded the wooden table.

"Now, look what you've done!" His accusing voice came. He held up the unfinished letter. At the end of a paragraph, there was a black smudge of ink. "Stop talking to me! I'm trying to concentrate here!"

She made a face. "Oh, so now it's my fault?"

Erestor fully turned to her. "Stop talking to me! I spelled _entourage_ wrong! Now, I should rewrite this all over again!"

"Not my fault, tra-la-lay," she repeated, smiling deviously at him. "And I can't believe you would spell that wrong, tra-la."

"Get out of here," he said and mumbled more incoherent words under his breath. He pulled another clean sheet of paper from his drawer and rewrote everything the other letter contained. His hands felt numb with all the writing. If it weren't for Elrond trusting him into this, he would never do it in the first place.

Erynlith stood up from the couch. "I'll see you at dinner then, dearest _scribe_ and counselor, tra-lo," she said, her voice was laced with both sweetness and sarcasm.

Erestor shot a glare at her. "Get out of here."

She did, laughing as the door was shut.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Here's a new story I've been working on since March. This chapter is more like a prologue, a little mischief here and there. We'll have Thranduil appearing next chapter and some action elves. Stay tuned! Please review and tell me what you think of the first chapter.

Have a great day ahead! ₍₍ ◝(・ω・)◟ ⁾⁾


	2. Mountainous Assault

**Chapter 02**

_**Mountainous Assault**_

* * *

"Thranduil, what are you doing?" the Elvenking inquired, peering over his son's shoulder to get a better view.

The younger one shrugged lazily in reply, lifting his work for his father to see. A sketch of the forest clearing was drawn on the rough paper, a rapid artwork but beautiful nonetheless. Oropher took the paper to examine it further, his blue eyes remarking each detail his son relayed on the sketch. And beneath him, he heard his son let another yawn, tears welling on the corners of his eyes.

"Beautiful," the King said, returning the paper back to him. "Shall we put it in a frame?"

Thranduil shook his head, folding the paper into four parts. "No need, Adar. It is a mere product of boredom."

"Ah, well then, I suppose you should go outdoors and change something in your routine once in a while," Oropher said, returning to his wooden desk in the middle of the room. His son eyed him curiously. "You have been passive of late. Patrolling the forest does not interest you anymore?"

"Not really," Thranduil answered. He tucked the folded paper in his pocket and prepared to leave the conference halls.

"Then, why don't you mingle with our people?" Oropher tried again. His son had always been interested in outdoor activities and would not mind spending time with the Silvan folk. But now, Thranduil was the passive and unsociable elf who preferred to be in his room. He knew his son was bored, with nothing interesting happening every now and then. Perhaps he wanted something challenging? Apparently, the Prince of Greenwood was not having any fun with 'normal' conversations with the Silvan maidens.

Again, Thranduil shook his head, now making his way towards the large doors. He smiled, however, a small reassuring smile for his wary father. "I would rather spend the whole day in the forest than share idle talks with people."

Oropher chuckled softly and waved a hand. "Very well. Good day to you."

"Good day to you, too, Adar," Thranduil replied politely, bowing a little, and then left.

* * *

Her smile was wider, and Erestor did not like it.

Following his submission of the letter, Elrond had quickly approved it and decided to send a group of heralds to Gondor. Of course, Erestor would take part in it; he was the Captain of Imladris, and his strength was great. He did not mind sending the letter to Gondor, though it bothered him when Elrond announced the messengers who would travel with him. Elrond handpicked some of the valley's scouts and warriors, but when Celebrían whispered something to his ear, he also called out: "Erynlith will come as well."

And that was why she was smiling, and Erestor still did not like what he was hearing.

"Lord Elrond, please," he whispered when the would-be heralds went to prepare their gears. Elrond turned to him thoughtfully, receiving his friend and counselor cordially. "I am aware of your reason for the letter, but Erynlith? Please, anyone but her."

The elf lord raised an eyebrow. "Why not, Erestor? Is there a problem with her?"

Erestor shook his head, eyeing their subject carefully. Erynlith was speaking to the other heralds; her face was bright and obviously excited. "Nothing is wrong with her, but I would feel better if she stays here. You know… where she is safe." And he wanted to save himself from the constant nonsense singing of the younger elf.

*****"_Roll-roll-roll-roll,_

_roll-roll-rolling down the hole!_

_Heave ho! Splash plump!_

_Down they go, down they bump!"_

Not from afar, Erynlith was singing constantly around Celebrían, scattering flower petals on the ground. Elrond made a mental note to have Erestor clean that when he returned.

"The road is dangerous. She is not suited for long travels, and you know it. You _should_ know it!" Erestor said impatiently.

Elrond could sense the worry all over Erestor's being. His dark eyes were pleading him. It was very amusing for Elrond's part. He did not anticipate that his task of Erestor watching over Erynlith would develop into a strong bond. It was almost like a bond between siblings. He had grown attached to the younger elf over the years, always looking out for her, always responsible for her. And Erestor do not want to be responsible if something terrible happened to her.

"Please," Erestor continued in a whisper.

"I'll see what I can do," Elrond sighed. "You are really worried, aren't you, my friend?"

Erestor gave him a small smile. "Of course, I am. There is no doubt in that."

When Elrond called her, she approached him eagerly, that bright smile ever on her face. He began talking, and Erestor watched from afar. Erynlith's smile suddenly turned upside down, in a heartbreaking frown that Erestor had never seen before. His sworn sister looked at him across the courtyard, her grey eyes shone in distraught.

"Erynlith," said Elrond, his voice gentle. "Please understand."

"But… you promised, tra-lo," she answered in a whisper, her singsong broken.

"Yes, young one, but Erestor has…"

She nodded in understanding and returned to the main house, right after swiping her hand into Elrond's robes. Erestor sighed deeply; the lighthearted Erynlith suddenly turned into a saddened one. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned and met Celebrían's eyes. She smiled and squeezed her hand into his, a warm gesture of reassurance.

Inside the main house, Erynlith sat by the window, watching the heralds gather in Erestor's orders. Her fingers twirled a paper of great importance.

"Will you not say goodbye to them, tra-la-lay?" a voice inquired. It was Lindir who smiled warmly at her. Both were minstrels of Imladris, though Lindir had adapted to Erynlith's queer manner of speaking and used it often in her presence.

She shook her head. "I am too sad to say goodbye to them, tra-la."

"Why so?" Lindir cocked his head to the side. "Did something happen that I do not know of, tra-lo?"

"Nothing happened," she said, smiling. She did not want Lindir worrying about _her_ problems.

"Well, if there is nothing," said Lindir again, "you should not look grim, my friend. Come and sing with me! I have a new song and I am sure you will like it, tra-la-la."

Before she knew it, Lindir was pulling her by the wrist, leading to the Halls of Fire where the other elves of Imladris were staying. Despite the early morning, they were already playing their flutes and harps, and singing songs in the High Speech. Erynlith could not understand them, for she and her kin in Lórinand were Sindar, and Sindarin were ever the language they used. Nonetheless, she sat among the singing elves, a harp thrust into her hands, and she played it absentmindedly.

_What he doesn't know won't kill him, tra-lay._

No words were spoken thereafter. The small group of heralds marched from Imladris and off towards the East, taking the road of the High Pass. In the bright summer morning of late October, they had left and would hopefully be back in a few months that followed, as Erestor wanted to return as soon as possible. Erynlith did not bother saying goodbye, and it was very disappointing for him. Once he returned, he would woo his sworn sister back.

* * *

**2nd November, S.A. 3438**

"We are not lost, are we, Captain?" one of the scouts asked.

Erestor shook his head. "No, this way. Follow me." He mustered his black horse forward, and it was followed by the rest of the entourage. They had been travelling the High Pass for three days now, and they only stopped for a few hours of rest. The Misty Mountains extended as the eyes could see. The weather is cold despite the autumn; Caradhras was only a few miles away. The sharp rocks which lined the pathway were dangerous; one little slip could cause a deep wound. Their horses neighed in wariness, not liking the cramped pathway at all.

Beating hooves sounded behind their caravan. Everyone turned back and some drew out their bows. Erestor quickly rode back, narrowing his dark eyes to see what it was. Not long after, a cloaked figure appeared up ahead on the misty road, and the horse neighed softly. With an order from the captain, the bows were withdrawn. The newly-arrived rider halted and dismounted the horse. Erestor did the same, too suspicious of the turn of events. The rider did not speak; the dark hood above the head clung too lowly.

"_Mae govannen,"_ said Erestor, still suspicious.

"_Mae govannen_, tra-la-lay," said the rider, and Erestor's eyes widened in disbelief.

He quickly pulled the hood off, revealing Erynlith's underneath. She blinked her eyes in the sudden light and let her vision adjust for a few moments. She looked at Erestor; she could tell he was not happy about this. Her brother gritted his teeth and forcefully grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her away from the caravan. "What do you think you're doing?!" he sharply whispered. The grip on her wrist tightened. "Do you think this is a game? Erynlith!"

She winced; Erestor's nails dug into her skin. "I was sent by Elrond!" She said in defense.

"Oh, really now?" He did not sound convinced. His grip tightened more. "What have you to say for yourself?!"

The stinging sensation on her wrist became worse, and she quickly pulled out a white envelope. In an instant, Erestor wavered; his eyes darted at the flashed paper. He looked at it in disbelief; the elaborate writing on the back was too familiar. Of course he recognized it; he wrote it after all! He snatched the letter from her hands and released her wrist. "Where did you get this?"

Erynlith caressed her aching wrist and began in a singsong. "You left it behind, brother mine, tra-la-lo. Lord Elrond panicked and asked me to deliver it after you. Thankfully, I caught up with you. Arcastar was really fast, tra-la." She talked about her favorite black horse.

Erestor look his time inspecting the unopened letter. Elrond's name printed in Tengwar was at the back of the envelope.

"I still haven't heard my thanks, tra-lay," Erynlith added playfully.

"Oh, yes," Erestor suddenly said, snapping out of his trance. "Thank you for delivering it, Eryn, but you must return to Imladris right away." As quickly as the words fell from his lips, the girl frowned again. Erestor shook his head and cupped her cheek. "Eryn, this is needless. We will back soon, I promise, tra-la-la."

She shook her head violently, umber hair swayed back and forth. "No! I came all this way and you can't make me return!"

"But Eryn—"

"Pretty please?" She gave him _the look_.

Erestor sighed in defeat. "You are kidding me."

She laughed and walked back to the eavesdropping heralds. The said heralds quickly composed themselves, acting as if they were not listening at all. But, they greeted Erynlith as one of them, and received her gladly. The caravan only had seven members, now eight including her. One herald carried the banner of Imladris, and another carried a horn. They were all equipped in armor, helm and mail shirt and all, while Erynlith was only provided with a dark tunic and jerkin and trousers which Elrond had in reserve.

After she was greeted by the scouts, she returned to look at Erestor once again. "With a skilled caravan like this, what could happen?"

Erestor did not answer her.

The distant growls and howls did.

Everyone went into their fighting stances. Bows were withdrawn again and this time, arrows were notched. Erestor pulled Erynlith onto her horse and mounted his own. Above the cliff, Orcs appeared with their teeth bared ferociously. At Erestor's command, the arrows were fired and the orcs fell on the steep pathway. More dead bodies fell down as the guards continued firing. The horses bolted up in fear, neighing wildly. Some ran off, leaving their riders on the ground.

"Hold your ground!" Erestor shouted. "Kill them!"

He notched another arrow and aimed for another orc. More streamed in, like an endless flowing river. The Orcs descended the cliff and jumped into the pathway, cornering the Elvish caravan both front and back. Some guards fended off the ones behind them, but more streamed in from in front. Erestor charged with his horse and drew his long and slender sword out. Three orcs he killed with that, but more rushed in. It was a dreadful sight for the small group of elves.

"Clear the pathway!" Erestor commanded again. "Take them out! We must escape! The pathway! Clear it!" The remaining elves complied, desperately hewing their way out of the great mess. They did not care anymore if their steeds were caught up with the poisonous blades of the Orcs; all they knew was that they had to survive.

Once the pathway was clear, enough to be bypassed, Erestor grabbed the fear-stricken Erynlith and pulled her horse's reins. "Eryn!" he shouted as their horses galloped together. She blinked and fear was still in her eyes. Erestor drove two white daggers into her hands. "Defend yourself. Whatever happens, do what you have to do!"

Erynlith weakly nodded and took the daggers from him. The caravan was on the move again, trekking the steep and sharp pathway down to the accursed mountains. Up ahead, the dense forest of Greenwood could be sighted, beyond the Anduin. As they rode on, they lost sights of the orc host behind them, and their terrible roars and growls faded.

The elves sighed in relief. Everyone was still in one piece and they had survived the first assault of the enemies. Not far away from them, another series of howls echoed. Looking behind, numerous wargs ran after them, their eyes darkened with the need to kill.

"…Erestor?" Erynlith called out to the captain. She reached out for his hands for comfort.

Erestor could see the fear written all over her face. At his one last attempt of comfort, he smiled weakly and said, "Do not worry, little one. Brother will always protect you, tra-la-la."

* * *

***Down the swift dark stream you go** - J.R.R. Tolkien

**Author's Notes:** I would like to thank _gaarakabuto, memo bonafide, ohhnoesthuy, DeLacus_, and _horseyyay _for the lovely replies! Many thanks from you guys!

Here we have little bored and artistic (?!) Thranduil. I do hope the initial portrayal stands out from the way he is usually portrayed. Sorry for the little action (Those who have read my other fics will understand that I love doing battle scenes). Next chapter the continuation of the skirmish continues, **BUT** Thranduil will finally meet Erynlith. Just imagine his reaction when she starts speaking. LOL.

I can't wait to update but please do enjoy this one first! Once again, thank you for the positive comeback on the first chapter. Reviews are always treasured. Have a nice day! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	3. At Greenwood's Mercy

**Chapter 03**

_**At Greenwood's Mercy**_

* * *

Thranduil, perched on a highest tree branch, looked far ahead. He could swear he heard some howling at a distance, no doubt from Wargs. He gritted his teeth; those foul creatures refused to leave their forest alone. Clutching his bow, he jumped off the branch and went off to mind his own business.

"Warg-riders," he scoffed.

* * *

Victory was once again at hand, but almost everyone was wounded in the process. Erynlith dismounted her horse and attended into them, but she knew nothing about healing. It had always been Elrond who excelled in this, sometimes Lindir, and of course, Erestor. She felt helpless. She could neither fight nor tend to the wounded. The work always fell upon Erestor's shoulders. The dark-haired captain tore a long strip from his blue cape and dressed the wounds with it.

"We have to leave immediately," one of the elves said again. He looked up whence the direction they had just come and the thundering footsteps of the orcs echoed again. "They are coming in fast. We must leave!"

"Leave us then, my lord," dark-haired Caladhir said; his torso deep with a warg bites. "We cannot delay any further. You have to leave us behind."

"No," Erestor said sternly. He carefully picked up the injured elf and set him back onto his horse. "We can do this. Hold on while we fend them off. Keep your eyes open. Do not sleep, my friend."

The elf nodded, closing his eyes as the pain shot up to his head. He winced inwardly but his companions could see the pain he was in.

"Incoming!" another elf shouted. Everyone looked up; hundreds of arrows rained upon them. Some were tipped with flames, the others with poison. The Elves cowered behind the protruding boulders; their horses either caught up in the assault or escaped in fear. Three of their caravan was lost in that charge; arrows pierced their torso and burned their arms.

Erynlith closed her eyes tighter as Erestor pinned her behind the boulder, his body covering her lithe frame. She pressed closer to him, a fragrant scent welcoming her, and she wished she was back in Rivendell, pestering Elrond with her singing. All of a sudden, Erestor cried in pain and collapsed on the ground. Erynlith crawled towards him and gasped. An arrow had pierced his thigh, and he was writhing on the ground.

"Erestor!" she cried, unsure of what to do. "Oh, no… Hold on, please. Hold on, brother." She looked around her. No one was alive. Their companions were all on the ground, either dead or dying. And she did not know what to do. She felt tears coming as she slung Erestor's arm around her shoulder; her other arm supporting the captain's heavy weight. She whistled sharply and waited; soon, Arcastar returned with a dutiful neigh. She set Erestor on the horse's back, careful not to move his injured thigh too much.

"Eryn… lith…" Erestor called out in broken pants. He forced his eyes open in search for her. In an instant, she was beside him, looking at him with worried grey eyes.

"You're alright, brother," she said and ran her hand across his sweaty forehead. "You'll be fine. Just let me take care of this, tra-lo." With that, she sprinted off again, pulling another injured elf into her arms. This was Caladhir, injured with deep warg bites on his abdomen. Erynlith gently pulled and swung him on top of her horse. The two injured elves were panting heavily, gasping for breath.

Arrows rained down again.

"Great, just great!" Erynlith exasperatedly muttered as she pulled her horse more forcefully. By this time, they had completely reached the end of the High Pass. The Great River Anduin was upon them, and she pulled Arcastar again. However, the orcs were persistent, and released their arrows again.

Erynlith suddenly felt an agonizing pain on her right wrist and fell on her knees. She bit her lip and writhed; her cries escaped in mewling pleas. On her right wrist, an arrow pierced through, the metal arrowhead sheathed deeply in her flesh. The blood exuded instantly and her vision faltered. She heard Arcastar neighing wildly beside her as the orcs came closer. She forced herself to stand up, stumbling side to side as if in a drunken stupor. Her grip on the reins tightened but it was Arcastar who pulled her into her feet, dragging her now to cross the river. They jumped from one rock to another; both could barely keep their balance. Behind Arcastar, Erestor groaned in pain. His eyes were closed but his jaw was clenched tightly in pain.

"_Noro lim_, Arcastar," Erynlith breathed as she collapsed on the other side of the river. Her horse only neighed and nudged her on the side. She gently patted its muzzle and said, "_Noro lim, mellon nin_. Take them to a safer place."

At this command, Arcastar sprinted off into the forest, fast enough to make his passengers fell. But his knew how much his passengers were important, and ran with great care. Erynlith watched as her black horse disappeared into the forest of Greenwood. Then, she sat up, slowly bringing her left hand to the terrible arrow on her right wrist. Ever so slowly, she snapped the arrow's shaft into two. She cried out in pain as blood continuously gushed out. Her leather vambrace was now stained with a shameful hue of crimson, and her tunic as well. She pulled the shaft from her wounded flesh; her cries fought back with the biting of lips. At last, the broken metal arrowhead was pulled off. Shards were left behind in her flesh, but she did not care anymore.

"Stupid, stupid orcs," Erynlith cursed them, slowly scrambling into her feet and entered the forest, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She fought to keep her balance, left hand feeling for the trunk of the trees she passed by. Behind her, the orcs growled and shouted, hesitant to enter the forest of the Woodland elves. Then, she tripped over an uprooted tree, stumbling back onto the ground, her cheek kneaded through the earth beneath her. She groaned in frustration and exhaustion; her legs cannot move any longer. And the pain on her right wrist continued, as well as the blood.

"Home, I wish I am home," she whispered, the drowsiness slowly taking her. "Can't sleep, no. Erestor says it's bad… Erestor… Erestor, brother, tra-la-la. Hope you are safe, tra-la-lay."

Her voice faded into the stillness of the forest, and darkness finally took her.

* * *

Thranduil was snapped out of his reverie when loud horse neighs reached his ears. Lazily, he sat up from the tree branch he was resting on, rubbing his sleepy blue eyes and yawning. He sat there, waiting for something to come up, and he doubted himself. Was he hearing things? Most likely. His reverie was about his youth back in the West, where he would play under the beech trees and play hero with the elf marchwardens. As he slumped back to the trunk, the horse neigh became louder.

"What in the name of…?" he questioned himself. A black horse came sprinting towards him, and it halted under the tree. Thranduil looked down on the horse and gasped when he saw its injured passengers. In one swift movement, he jumped off the tree branch and tended to the passengers. He carefully laid them down on the grassy ground and examined them. "What happened? Can you hear me?"

Erestor opened his eyes, surprised of the familiar face. "Thranduil," he said weakly, his words coming in ragged breaths. "Eryn… Erynlith… Where?"

Thranduil looked around for the elf in question. He did not know who that was, but the name sounded feminine, and he looked around for a maiden. But the other passenger was another warrior, armor-clad and injured. He felt Erestor pulling him. "Please, find her," Erestor insisted, suddenly wincing when his thigh flexed. "Please…"

Beside him, Arcastar was trotting impatiently. It dug its hooves onto the earth, neighing and thrashing around.

"I'll find her," Thranduil said. "But first, let me take you into the palace. You are gravely injured and I cannot leave you like this." He laid the captain gently and sounded his horn. A few moments later, a group of Silvan elves came rushing with alarmed looks on their face.

"My lord," said one, "are you hurt?" Before Thranduil could answer, the elf's eyes lowered and saw the two injured elves. His eyes widened. "Oh, no…"

"I'll leave them to your care," Thranduil said, his voice full of authority. He strapped his bow behind his back and took Arcastar's reins. "I'll be back shortly. Get them as fast and gently as you can. I want them treated already when I return to the palace." Then, he mounted the black horse.

"Where are you going, my lord?" asked one of the guards. His companions took Erestor into their care, arms carefully slung about their shoulders. They had removed the captain's heavy breastplate and gauntlet, and they began taking him away. The others had done the same to Caladhir, who was deep asleep, but his moaned when his body was moved, torso aching all the more.

Thranduil shrugged. "I am not sure, but I need to know what is going on. I will be back later." With his command, Arcastar sprinted off to the other direction. It did not care whether the rider was familiar or not; his mistress was in deep trouble already.

The Woodland Elven-guard marched back into their palace. It was located in southern Greenwood, upon the hill they called Amon Lanc, and near the banks of Anduin. Beyond the river was the forest of Lórinand, another realm of the Silvan folk. As they drew nearer to the palace, more of the guards rushed towards them, taking the injured elves and quickly admitted them into the infirmary. The healers were suddenly attentive, running back and forth to fetch the needed supplies. One guard entered the palace and announced to the King what happened, and King Oropher followed them back into the infirmary.

"Erestor…" said the silver-haired King, placing a hand on the captain's shoulder. The healers gave little way to the King as they cut off Erestor's pants and poured water on his injured thigh. The arrow was still on place.

Erestor opened his eyes. "King Oropher…" he said, looking around the place. "Where are we? And Erynlith… where?"

"Don't worry," the King assured his friend, although he was unsure about the other elf mentioned. "Everything will be fine. Leave it all to us. Right now, focus on healing."

As the captain closed his eyes again, Oropher moved back to give the healers more space. He glanced at the other injured elf who was attended by a number of healers as well. The infirmary was incredibly roused for just a short while; some citizens even poked their heads in curiosity. One dark-haired guard came up to the King, bowed, and told him of Thranduil's plan. The King's eyebrows furrowed at that, suddenly alert, but he knew his son was capable enough to handle himself.

"He'll be back," Oropher said, more like assuring himself.

* * *

Erynlith felt something pressing against her throat. With a low moan, she fluttered her eyes open. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the blinding light, but she could see a dark figure kneeling beside her. Next, she heard something like, "Oh, thank the Valar. You're alive!" Sounds of rustling leaves and a neighing horse had awoken her from her slumber. She felt strong arms around her, slowly sitting her up, and a strong, muscled body guiding her to stand up.

"I got you," the voice said in a whisper. She did not turn to look at the newcomer, all she knew he was helping her. However, her legs weakened beneath her and she succumbed. Strong hands caught her in time but guided her back to sit on the ground. She was guided to lean back against a tree trunk; her chin was lifted and examined. "Where do you hurt?" the voice asked again.

She shook her head. "Wrist," she answered weakly. Her finger pointed to show where the injury was. "Wrist and legs… can't walk… also can't fight anymore, tra-la-lo."

Thranduil looked incredulously at this elf. Was she out of her mind? She spoke in a queer manner; the 'tra-la-lo' was laced with a little hum. He then looked down at her wrist and dried blood was about her vambrace. "Come with me," he whispered and carried her into his arms; her left arm was around his shoulders. He began to walk off, followed by the faithful Arcastar. "Is your name Erynlith?"

The elf in his arms nodded weakly, strands of her umber hair tickling his neck. "How did you know, tra-la-lo? Oh, I rhymed!"

He chuckled. "Someone told me. Are you from Rivendell? Well, you must be. The plume on your horse's headstall says so." She did not answer. He looked down at her face; she looked as if ready to sleep. "What are you doing in the forest?" He asked again in an effort to keep Erynlith from falling asleep.

Again, she shook her head. "Message to Gondor, ambushed by wargs, brother and friend are hurt. Tell me, have you seen Erestor? He is badly hurt and I am worried, tra-la."

"He is being taken care of, as we speak, tra-la," said Thranduil, feeling rather silly for adding the 'tra-la' at the end.

Erynlith laughed a little, her eyes still closed. "That is good then. Erestor and Caladhir are the only ones to remain, and also Arcastar… my brave Arcastar."

"Oh, is that your horse's name?" Thranduil, in amusement, asked again.

She nodded. "Yes, it means steadfast in Quenya. Erestor gave him that name…"

"I have heard many languages in my time," said he, shifting his arms and balancing the elf's weight. "And surely, Quenya is one of them. But us of the Sindarin lineage should stay loyal to our very own. Even the Dúnadan have learned it."

"Dúnadan, yes," Erynlith said tiredly. "King of Gondor and his sons are Dúnadan…" She opened her eyes and saw Arcastar following behind them. "Ah, Arcastar, tra-la. Really, really, brave. Tell me, elf, do you like horses? Well, you should. Horses are wonderful companions, tra-lay."

"Um, yes," Thranduil answered uneasily, already convinced that this elf was completely out of her mind. "We have few horses here in Greenwood, and I have a white one waiting in the stables."

She smiled, pressing her head against Thranduil's neck, and began to sing quietly.

"_Good horses, bad horses_

_Drinking from a milk bar._

_Fast horses, brave horses_

_Like my love Arcastar."_

Thranduil gawked at her. _She's singing about horses— what in Eru's name?_

The conversation continued all the way until they reached the palace. The Elven-guard made an attempt to take Erynlith from Thranduil's arms, but she flinched and turned their probing hands away. She refused to be touched by none other than him. With a small smile, Thranduil agreed to deliver her himself to the infirmary where the healers waited for them. Erynlith was settled into a bed near the window, adjacent to the beds occupied by Caladhir and Erestor.

Oropher returned to the infirmary when he was told of Thranduil's return.

"I didn't anticipate that you'd bring home a girl this way," the King openly teased his son in front of the running healers and guards.

Thranduil casually leaned his back against the wall; eyes darted on the injured younger elf. "Her wrist has been pierced by a poisoned arrow. I think she forced to remove the arrow, resulting in a greater damage. And she must have bumped her head onto something. She speaks oddly. It is normal for elves in Rivendell to talk as if singing?"

Oropher smiled. "This lady does. In either way, I am glad you brought her back. She seems to mean a lot to our good friend, Erestor." He went closer to Erynlith's bed and said: "How are you, Lady Erynlith? Are you comfortable with your bed?"

She winced when a healer began fixing her wounded wrist. Nonetheless, she opened her grey eyes and looked up to the King. "Ah, my lord," she said, although she did not know he was the King. "May I sleep now? That blond elf guard of yours wouldn't let me sleep. He keeps on talking, but his voice— yes; I like his voice, tra-la…"

The King glanced back to his son, who only gave a knowing smirk. "Had to be done," said Thranduil, shrugging.

"Is Erestor okay now?" Erynlith asked again. "His thigh is hurt, is it not? Erestor should never be hurt ever again. It was my fault, really my fault; I am sorry, tra-lay."

"See? I told you she speaks oddly," Thranduil called out to his father.

Oropher ignored his son. "Yes, yes, Erestor is very okay, Erynlith. You should rest. In the morning, we will visit you again."

She nodded and closed her eyes. "Okay, be back soon. I want to hear voices soon, tra-la-lay."

Thranduil spared one last glance at the eccentric elf. As he and his father turned to leave, he made a mental note to visit her again the following morning.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hm, Thranduil and Erynlith finally meet! The sassy King (or still Prince) is rather baffled in this chapter. Even an injured Erynlith sticks to her weird singing.

_gaarakabuto_: Yes, I think her singing is kind of tourett, a tic that can be done voluntary, perhaps? But I'm sure Erynlith only does that to annoy the living daylights out of Erestor and the other elves. LOL. Thank you for the previous reviews by the way.

Also thanks to _DeLacus_ (Good to see you here!) and guest _Jahzara _(Enjoy!) for the reviews last chapter.

Next chapter we'll have more sassy Thranduil goodness. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for reading and reviews are always welcomed!


	4. The Infirmary

**Chapter 04**

_**The Infirmary**_

* * *

The next morning, just as Thranduil anticipated for himself, he returned to the infirmary. However, he was disappointed to learn that the eccentric elf was still fast asleep. But he took his time to see her; the wounded right wrist she had was neatly bandaged. Her cheeks had scratches and on her arms were bruises; and he wondered how she could still talk in singsongs in such a state. Her heavy tunic was replaced by a lighter one; her boots and vambraces placed on top of the table next to the bed.

"She is quite the cheery elf," said one of the healers as she entered the room, finding Thranduil standing absentmindedly in the corner.

"Ah, Santien," Thranduil said nonchalantly, addressing the auburn-haired healer. "How are the others doing?"

"They are well," Santien answered, putting down a basket of freshly-picked herbs. Her hazel eyes regarded the elf prince thoughtfully, though piercing at the same time. Thranduil shuddered; those eyes were always too sharp, too knowing for its beholder. "The minstrel heals fast. It is unbelievable. _She_ is unbelievable."

She began to rummage through her basket, slender fingers working gently on the herbs. Thranduil watched closely, almost feeling the brush of those fingers on his skin whenever Santien massaged the weariness off of him. The auburn hair cascaded like a curtain, all the way down to the slender hips, curling and bouncing at each movement of the elf. Her green silk velvet covered most of her olive skin, the sleeves flowing past her hands. She had to roll the sleeves up to keep them from her duty.

"Erestor should be up soon," he chuckled, looking over to Erestor's bed. He was sleeping and his armor was completely taken off. Like Erynlith, he had bruises all over his arms. Thranduil had known Erestor for a very long time now, being there when the Sindar moved out into the East. He was younger back then, but he respected Erestor for his valor and strength in battle. Not only was he powerful, he was also very knowledgeable, making him one of the most skilled elves Thranduil knew in his lifetime.

However, ever since their arrival in the Greenwood, the elves were sundered and they almost never had dealings with each other. Elrond would send messages every once in a while, inquiring of either daily lives or alliance, whatever he deemed worthy. But no matter how much he had known about Erestor, how come he did not know about Erynlith? Even his father Oropher did not give him the details last night.

Thranduil walked over Erestor's bed, leaning against the edge of the table. Catching glimpse of something beneath the pillow, he pulled and examined it. He unfurled a small green pennant, showcasing an emblem of green tree and three silver stars, an Elvish name embroidered on its corner. His eyes widened at that name, him wondering how Erestor could have acquired such old Sindarin heirloom.

"Are you going to stare at them the whole day?" Santien impatiently asked. Her hazel eyes were glaring at him.

He jerked up and quickly returned the pennant underneath the white pillow. "Alright, already," Thranduil sighed and held up his hands. "I'll go now… Go back into my usual _boring_ routine… with no one to talk to, no one to spend time with, and…"

"Really, Thranduil!" Santien said exasperatedly, flailing her hands. "Enough drama for today! Get out! I still have work to finish!"

He laughed heartily. "Yes, I am going!" As he left, he poked his head by the doorway and added: "If anyone of them wakes, preferably the lady, tell me as soon as possible."

Santien shrugged. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Tell me as soon as possible, you hear me?" Thranduil demanded playfully.

"Yes, Thranduil! Now, get out!"

* * *

The doors of the King's study room were opened. But the King did not look up; he was very much engrossed into attending on his duties. The newcomer slipped into the green couch in front of the King's desk and dropped his bow on the table.

"You haven't heard, have you?" Amroth asked the King, raking dirty fingers through the pale golden locks. He had recently returned from hunting on the northern borders of the forest. "I mean, the marchwardens were talking about an attack in the High Pass. Some claim that the surviving elves escaped into Greenwood. They saw a black horse carrying two wounded passengers."

King Amdír looked up briefly and said, "There is nothing that would catch my interest if it has nothing to do with me, ion nin." With that, he returned to his work, reading reports from his trusted captains.

"Maybe…" Amroth muttered. "I have this tingling sensation within me, Adar. What do you think could have happened? No elves cross the High Pass, other than Elrond's heralds."

The King began scribbling. "What are you suggesting then?"

Amroth shrugged. "I do not know. Like I said, I have this strange feeling of worry. Do you not think those elves are from Rivendell? What if Elrond had sent them out for a message again? You know who leads Elrond's heralds…"

"Let us discuss more _important_ matters, shall we?" Amdír groaned. "The events in Greenwood do not concern us. Not unless it perks my interest whatsoever." He returned to his writing.

"I am just worried," said Amroth, standing up and collecting his bow. He went for the door again. "Either way," he called back, "whatever it is, whether big or small, I feel the need to see what it really is."

King Amdír looked up. "Is it a hunch?"

Amroth nodded. "Positive."

* * *

Erynlith was the first to awake from the deep slumber. She rolled above the soft and warm bed, white blankets limiting her movements. She felt refreshed. She had never felt like that for centuries. The sunlight from the window blinded her momentarily; she had almost forgotten that it was autumn. Outside the window, she could see trees and birds and flowers, and these things brought smile to her face. She tried to sit up and winced at the pain.

Now that, she had almost forgotten.

She lifted her wrist, eyeing the bandage with curiosity. Then, she looked around. The room was green in hue, walls and ceilings etched with vines and leaves. Many beds were lined up on the sides. A single door was on the other side. Again, she looked around, trying to sink in the image of the unfamiliar place. As soon her eyes were laid upon Erestor's bed, seeing his motionless form, she quickly crawled out of bed and rushed to his side.

"Erestor?" she called out to him, running shaky fingers on his cheek. "Erestor, brother?"

He did not answer. But another voice did. "Do not interrupt his sleep," Santien sternly said, almost demanding. Erynlith blinked at the stranger. "He is not fully healed yet. Maybe you are, so do not interrupt him."

Hearing that, Erynlith returned to sit on the edge of her bed. "Where are we?"

"In Greenwood's infirmary," answered Santien, her voice far from friendly. "The Elven-guard found you in the woods. You are lucky to be found alive. The forest could have taken your life swiftly."

Erynlith furrowed her brows. "Greenwood… never been here before, tra-la," she muttered under her breath, left hand combing through her umber hair. She was surprised they were no tangles. The other healers must have combed it while she slept. "How long have I been out?"

"A whole day," Santien replied. She was mixing and pounding herbs, and then poured hot water in it. She walked towards Erynlith. "Here, drink this," she said, offering the herbs in a cup. "It will help soothe your system. You must be hungry, but solid foods will take harder to digest. Drink that for the moment." Then, she stood up and went back to her work.

Erynlith smelled the cup and quickly drew it away from her nose. "Valar! What is that smell? It's _awful_!"

Santien did not appreciate that. "Herbs to help you live longer," she said sternly. "Drink that and it will make you feel better."

The other elf cringed. "Ugh, just look at it! It's too green and slimy and smells really bad, tra-lay. Are these vegetables?"

"Yes." Santien rolled her eyes. "Now, drink that. I am making one for your friends as well."

"Oh, don't bother," Erynlith said, putting the cup down on her bedside table. "Erestor can drink mine, tra-lo…"

"No, he will not," the healer insisted, ignoring the singsong. It was obvious she was losing her patience to this younger elf. And Santien did not even know her name, not that she wanted to know anyway. All she wanted to do was do her job as the King trusted her to do, and then get these trespassing elves out of the forest. Their gears and weapons and armors did not match that Greenwood had, and it made some of the Silvan folk uncomfortable.

But Erynlith ignored her as well. She ran her hand on Erestor's forehead, lovingly stroking the dark hair and pale cheeks. Then, she began to sing softly, as if coaxing a child to sleep:

"_To sleep would be folly,_

_To sing would be jolly,_

_Erestor, wake up now._

_Let's ride to the meadow,_

_And be back for dinner._

_Please listen to the singer…"_

She could not go on longer; sadness filled her heart as Erestor laid bedridden in front of her, utterly indisposed. Leaning over, she kissed him on the brow, and then on both cheeks.

For a moment, Santien felt sorry for their fate. "Drink that already so I may tell the King you have awoken," the healer suggested, her stern voice fading.

"King?" Erynlith echoed, turning back to her. "I didn't know Greenwood is run by a King, tra-la."

"Well, now you know. Speaking of kings, it reminded me of something…" Santien looked directly at her, hazel eyes thoughtful again. "Someone wants to meet you. Be careful though; he is quite an annoying elf, that one."

* * *

Thranduil was bored out of his mind. Here he was, minding his own business in the almost-empty library. Almost. On the other side of the room, a librarian was quietly stacking the books back into the shelves. He groaned quietly, seated on the corner.

"My lord," the librarian said in a soft whisper.

Thranduil did not look up; rather, he did not hear the librarian's voice. He was focused on his work at present, a sketch he had been working on absentmindedly. His chin was propped under his left hand, blue eyes staring lazily at his work, as his right scribbled randomly on the paper. Then, he yawned, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. His mind was still bothered by that pennant, years from the old West coming back to him.

Once again, the librarian called out to him, her voice louder. "My lord Thranduil," she said.

His chin slipped from his palm and he jolted awake, looking up to the dark-haired librarian. "Yes?" he asked impatiently.

"Lady Santien has asked for you," the librarian politely said. "She mentioned something about the guests in the infirmary…"

"Ah, yes." Thranduil moved to stand up. _Finally_, he thought. He murmured his thanks to the librarian. He looked at his work; a random sketch of his father's throne was the product of his boredom. But he thought the sketch looked well; perhaps he might show it off to someone later. He exited the library he had been hanging around for a few hours. He made a mental note not to finish his duties when it was still very early.

Few elves greeted him on his way to the infirmary. Clad in silver brocade and dark trousers, he did not look like royalty at all. His pale golden hair was combed back neatly; his gem-studded rings were not present. He only had a silver brooch upon his collar, studded with emerald. He descended the intersecting staircase in the palace's foyer and then passed by a small fountain. He reached the infirmary in no time, and before he entered, he made an effort to fix his brocade and dusted off his trousers.

When he entered, Santien was glaring at him.

"What?" he asked innocently, closing the door behind him.

"I am not obliged to watch over a little elf if that is what you meant by 'what'."

He blinked again, unable to grasp her meaning. "…What?"

"Really, Thranduil!" Santien groaned exasperatedly. "Have you lost your mind somewhere?! Have you any idea how to keep track of that… _that elf_?! She has left the infirmary without my knowing and now I cannot find her! The King will get us both if he finds out about this!"

"Oh," he said in realization. He looked around; indeed, Erynlith was not there, only the sleeping Caladhir and Erestor. How could she leave her friends just like that? Shaking his head and avoiding Santien's glare, he went off in search for her.

He asked the Silvan elves he passed. Apparently, none of them saw the elf in question. Thranduil had described her as "an umber-haired elf with bright eyes and strange manner in speaking". However, none of the elves still saw her, and they do not even know why their prince demanded to know. In Thranduil's part, he understood the worry of Santien. They were both entrusted by the King to attend to their injured guests; should Elrond find out that his people were treated otherwise, a conflict may arise between Rivendell and Greenwood.

And the girl was supposed to be injured. He kept that in his mind. What could an injured elf do outside the infirmary? She was still just a newcomer in the forest. She knew _nothing_ about the places she could visit. Thranduil gritted his teeth; he had reached the foyer once again, but no sign of the girl.

Now what?

As if reading his mind, the Captain of the Elven-guard walked up to him, a recurve bow on hand. "Looking for someone, Thranduil?"

Thranduil turned to see his dark-haired friend, clad in thick green tunic and breeches. The Captain was tall and lean, walking in such grace that he was envied. His dark hair was braided in two plaits behind the pointed ear, and a smile ever graced his youthful face. But he was no youth; he had known Thranduil back in the Elder Days.

The elf prince nodded and walked toward his friend. "Yes, Raithon. You remember the girl I rescued yesterday? She has left the infirmary without Santien's knowing. I was asked to find her."

"Oh, yes, I remember," Raithon chuckled, grey eyes showing interest in the matter. "She passed by the outpost earlier this morning, and greeted me and the other guards. When I asked about her, she mentioned something getting _something_ for her brother. I do not know but she speaks really strangely, you know… Always trailing her sentences off with 'tra-la' or something like that. She seemed friendly and innocent. Anyway, she went that way, past the outpost and possibly in field beside the river."

"And you did not stop her?!" Thranduil asked in disbelief.

The captain shrugged innocently. "How should I know? She looked really well anyway. I thought she wanted to get some fresh air."

Thranduil groaned and walked away. "Fresh air," he snorted. "If something happens to her, I am blaming _you_!"

* * *

*Santien – Daughter of the Garden

*Raithon – He who strives

**Next Chapter:** Thranduil finds Erynlith, and well... things happen between them.

**Author's Notes:** Hooray for another update! *throws confetti* Sorry for the lack of Thranduil/Erynlith for now. I wanted to establish some character relationships before proceeding. I hope you like the chapter; we've got some crazy Santien and Thranduil things going on here.

By the way, Amdir and Amroth were the Sindarin monarchs of Lothlorien (previously called Lorinand) before Celeborn and Galadriel. :)

Many, many thanks to the reviewers last chapter: _xSiriuslyPadfoot__, SimplySupreme, DeLacus, Rousdower_, and _Jahzara_! I am glad you guys like Erynlith so far! I promise to make the next chapter more interesting for everyone who reads this story.

Until next update! Please review; opinions and suggestions are always welcomed!~


	5. Bluebells for Erestor

**Chapter 05**

_**Bluebells for Erestor**_

* * *

"_Roses are red, bluebells are blue_

_Oh, I wish I am home with you_

_Erestor, you silly… fondue_

_Back to the place where I met you."_

Erynlith sang as she arrived at river banks of Anduin. Right before her, a field of blooming flowers greeted her. The field was carpeted in richly-colored bluebells, and the late autumn wind was warm. It breezed past her, umber hair flying as it went. She tucked her hair behind her ear and proceeded to the field. She knelt down in the middle, observing the bluebells before plucking some out one by one.

"Bluebells, bluebells, tra-la-lay," she continued singing to herself. "Pretty, pretty flowers in Greenwood, tra-lo." Her arm was now full of bluebells. She smiled happily, like a child given a new toy. "Erestor likes flowers… the _eltiria_ that bloom in Rivendell. I wonder what other names the elves have for bluebells, tra-la-la?"

She looked up ahead, beyond the Anduin. There was Lórinand, the valley of gold. She wondered if someone could see her right now; the marchwardens of Lórinand were terribly vigilant of their surroundings. Remembering the Silvan elves living there, she sighed and the feeling of emptiness welled inside her. She missed her cousin in Lórinand and it had been years since they last saw or heard of each other.

"Maybe I should visit them sometime?" she asked herself and stood up. Santien had given her a dress earlier that morning, a pale blue dress that touched her ankles. Although not the one for dresses, she thanked the snobbish Silvan healer and took the dress.

"Ah, there you are!" Someone chirped behind her.

Erynlith jumped up in surprise and quickly hid the flowers behind her back. Thranduil was striding towards her now, handsome and graceful. The look on his face was thoughtful, but mischievous at the same time. As he reached her, he titled his head to the side and said: "I have been looking everywhere for you, my lady."

She blinked. "You are?" And then blinked again. "Wait, who are _you_?"

Thranduil frowned lightly. He was disappointed not to hear her 'tra-la' kind of singing. The elf did not seem to remember him from yesterday, even if he was the one who rescued her. "You don't, remember? Well, I don't blame you." He leaned closer, his hands behind his back. "Now, my lady, what do you have behind your back?"

She flinched, not expecting that question. Or perhaps she should have expected it first? "Nothing, really…" She felt the need to leave the 'tra-la' out.

"My name is _Lascalen_," he said cordially, blue eyes glinting in mischief.

Erynlith quickly held out her hand in an attempt to shake his hand. Instead, Thranduil took it and kissed the back of her hand. "I am Erynlith," she answered, withdrawing her hand. When silence fell between them, and the other elf was still silent, she pursed her lips awkwardly and said: "Um, can I help you?"

Thranduil chuckled. "Well, yes, you can. I was sent to fetch you back, actually. The healer from the infirmary was quite worried when you left without permission. You should be aware that you are not fully-healed yet, and you might hurt yourself even more. The King has tasked us to make sure of your well-being. And we will do what we are told. So, please, bear with me and return to the infirmary with me."

She fell silent. This elf sounded like Erestor on a daily basis. Gripping the stems of the bluebells tighter, she nodded and began following him. She spared one last glance on the lovely field of bluebells. As they reached the forest once more, Thranduil looked back at her, making sure she was following. His companion was looking around, often wandering about to check on something she had probably never seen before.

"Oh, look! Hold up!" Erynlith suddenly called out, walking away from him. For the umpteenth time, Thranduil turned around and watched her. Behind the bushes, a small fox emerged, sniffing the ground. Erynlith knelt a few inches away from the creature, on her face was a big smile, and stretched out her hand. "Come here, little one," she began cooing, much to Thranduil's amusement. She flicked her fingers. "Come here; let me pat you for a moment…"

The fox did not move. It only stared at the eccentric elf. Erynlith tried again. "Puppy… Come here, boy…"

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose, and murmured. "We're never going to make it to the palace."

At last, the fox complied and scampered towards her. Its bushy tail wagged to and fro, the long muzzle probed around, sniffing her hands and legs for treats. Erynlith smiled and patted the fox lovingly; on her other hand was the bouquet of bluebells. When she was satisfied, she bid goodbye to the fox. "See you later. Be careful in the forest, puppy, tra-la-la."

His ears perked up in that strange singsong voice again. Slowly, a smile made its way to his lips.

"You like animals?" he asked, trying to make a small talk.

She stood up. "Oh, yes. In Rivendell, we only have few horses and birds. No foxes of the like, tra-la." At her brief moment of realization, she slapped a hand to cover her mouth, embarrassed of her words. It was always Erestor who heard all her singing antics, sometimes Elrond and Lindir.

Thranduil chuckled. "Is this your first time in Greenwood?"

Again, she nodded. "We never traveled as far as Lórinand."

"And why not?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and looking down at her.

"I do not know." She shrugged. "Erestor always comes with me when we travel. And do you know Gildor? We always travel together in the forests in Arnor. It takes us months to return to the valley, tra-lay… oh, I rhymed!"

He fondly smiled again. "Ah, Gildor…" Thranduil muttered, trying to recall the appearance of the said elf. Gildor was known for his seemingly endless travels. He looked down at her again and noticed that the bouquet was now held in front of her. He smiled mischievously. "Ah, _luinell_. So, you've found them, haven't you? You should not go picking flowers from the forests."

Her brows furrowed. "Why not, tra-lo?"

"Because the forest is alive," he answered. "It needs every blade of grass, every green leaf, and flowers to live. If you keep on doing that, the forest will soon wither away. I must refrain you from picking any more bluebells from now on."

The girl nodded obligingly, and he was pleased at the look of disappointment on her face. "Moreover, the King will punish everyone who picks his flowers."

Her face blanched, just like the way Thranduil anticipated. "What?"

"The King likes his _luinell_, you see?" he continued as they went nearer to the palace. "He doesn't want anyone picking them."

Erynlith looked down on the flowers in great defeat. "Oh, too bad, tra-la."

Thranduil laughed heartily. "I am only bluffing!" he said between laughs. Before he knew it, his companion huffed and stomped away, leaving him quite dazed. He followed, of course, and was surprised that she knew her way back to the infirmary.

"My lady!" he called out to her, already forgetting what her name was. "I was only _joking_. Do not be angry!"

She did not turn around. Who was he to make a fool out of her? He was supposed to be _helping_ her! "I already dislike Greenwood," she huffed. She found the infirmary in no time. At the doorway, Santien was standing, glaring and all, her arms crossed. Erynlith avoided her gaze and slipped past her as Santien's eyes followed her accusingly. Soon after, Thranduil followed, also greeted by the healer's glare.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I brought her back, didn't I?"

Santien growled. "You did when it was way past lunchtime!"

He sighed exasperatedly. "_At least_ I brought her back."

* * *

Elrond sighed and rubbed his temples. He then rested his elbows above his desk, fingers entwined; but his eyes looked directly at nothing, his mind in deep thought. The soft knock on his door made him blink. Beyond it, Celebrían's voice sounded, asking to be received. Grunting, Elrond pushed himself from the desk and opened the door. Celebrían smiled and entered; a silver tray of teapot and cups were there. Elrond led her towards the couch and she began pouring out the tea.

"Any news of them?" Celebrían asked, offering a cup to him.

Elrond accepted and sipped lightly. "I'm afraid not. I've sent other scouts but they all turned around before even reaching the High Pass. Something has happened to them. I am sure! If something really terrible happened to them… if Erestor or Erynlith are hurt, I cannot forgive myself."

"Don't say that," Celebrían said and took Elrond's hand into hers. She smiled softly. "They are fine. They must be somewhere in the woods right now, in Lórinand or in Greenwood. You know Erestor; he will never let anything happen to his friends. He is very knowledgeable about things. They are fine. You'll see." Then, she leaned in and planted a swift kiss on his cheek.

"Perhaps you should become my counselor instead of Erestor," Elrond said with a smile.

She laughed. "I don't mind that. You're giving Erestor all the work! Captain and counselor? You should really consider his well-being!"

"There is no one who can do it other than him," Elrond admitted. He leaned back to his couch. "I am considering making Gildor a counselor. But you know him; always traveling about and rarely comes home. He enjoys Lindon more than Rivendell these days."

* * *

Erestor slightly waved his hand as the Erynlith entered. He sat up a little from his bed, torso and arms covered in bandages. He had awoken just this morning after Erynlith, and he was disappointed not to see her there. Santien attended to him immediately, redressing his wounds. His shoulder wound was still open slightly; livid scar showed itself. Then, Santien offered him the same medicinal tea, and Erestor took it gratefully. The taste lingered in his tongue, a mix of sweet and sour, and he wondered if Erynlith had already drunk hers. When Santien said otherwise, he chuckled at the expected turnout.

Now, well now, his smile became wider at the sight of her; the pale blue dress she wore suited her well, he thought. And as she went closer, Santien was accompanied by another elf that he knew very well. Erestor gave Thranduil a little nod before turning back to Erynlith. Her eyes looked at him in disbelief.

"Good afternoon, little one," Erestor greeted her.

Erynlith smiled and swiftly drew him into an embrace. "Erestor!"

He winced when he was crushed by her. "Ow! Injured… shoulder!"

"Oh, sorry, tra-la…" Erynlith gasped and withdrew. Erestor was soothing his left shoulder. "Oh, are you alright, brother?" She continued worriedly.

He nodded, still groaning softly. "I will be… Where have you been?"

Swiftly, she presented the bouquet in her hands; the blue petals fell from the roughness of her movement. Erestor's eyes followed the falling petals, picked one that fell on his lap, and stared at Erynlith with wide eyes. She smiled and placed the bouquet in his hands.

"These," she said, picking the petals and giving them to Erestor, "are your little gift from me, you silly elf, tra-la-lay." She closed his hands and held them. "You really made me worry out there, brother. I thought I was supposed the mischievous one, remember? You just had to act so noble and dauntless. Well, lucky you, I am a reliable person. And I will never leave you behind, tra-lo."

She embraced him gently, now too careful not to touch his still-aching shoulder wound. Erestor smiled softly and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. He buried his nose on her umber hair; the scent of the forest and sun was already caught up in it. When they broke away, they both looked down to Erestor's lap and laughed when the bouquet of bluebells was squished from their embrace.

"Now, look what you've done!" Erynlith cried, holding up one squished flower.

Erestor laughed harder. "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll get that fixed right away." He tried to take the flower from her.

"No!" said the younger elf, drawing her hand away. "You ruined it already! It's _really_ squished!"

"I'll fix it, I said!" Erestor said, still laughing. "Maybe water can nourish it back to health, or something."

The conversation between Erynlith and Erestor continued. They talked about nothing in particular; Erynlith just kept on talking and talking to keep her brother from falling asleep again. And Erestor had always enjoyed her company; he laughed at her eccentricities, the little inside jokes she learned from Gildor during their travels. Even Santien and Thranduil listened, with the blonde elf prince quietly laughing every once in a while. It was a little late in the afternoon when Santien insisted that Erestor should get more rest, which he gladly obeyed. Erynlith was also asked to rest inside the infirmary, but she declined, wanting to get more exposure of the unfamiliar forest.

"I'll take you out," Thranduil offered, already opening the door for them.

Erynlith had completely forgotten that he was there in the first place. She assumed he already left after their little misunderstanding that afternoon, and that he would not show his face afterwards. She glared at him, something she rarely did to her friends at Rivendell. She was not an entirely snobbish elf, only that she disliked how Thranduil had been dishonest of her and even making her look ridiculous.

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "No, thank you. I do not like you, tra-la."

Thranduil look stunned while Erestor raised an eyebrow. Did Erynlith even know whom she was talking to? To whom she was being hostile with?

"Oh my," Thranduil smirked. "I did not intend to be dishonest. I can be nice."

Erynlith faked a loud gasp and sneered at him. "Excuse _you_!"

"And I am extremely humble," he added.

She rolled her eyes, scooting closer to Erestor as she sat on the edge of his bed. Then, she whispered to Erestor's ear audibly: "He was bullying me, brother, tra-la-lo…"

Before Thranduil could shoot something back in his defense, Santien quietly grabbed him by the elbow and shoved him out of the infirmary, sharply whispering something in Silvan. Erestor and Erynlith heard Thranduil whisper something back as well, his voice accusing and raised, but the healer shrugged him off and slammed the door in his face. Santien huffed and returned to her work on her desk, concocting another medicinal tea for the sleeping Caladhir.

"They are very familiar with each other, aren't they?" Erestor said amusedly, referring to Santien and Thranduil, as he slipped under his covers.

Erynlith smiled and helped him adjust his pillows. "Yes, maybe, tra-la. Anyway, you should really get some rest. I'll see you later at dinner, okay?"

Erestor nodded thoughtfully and closed his eyes. "I will."

As he dozed off once more, Erynlith sat on a chair and pulled it beside the bed. Her hand combed through his dark hair, that soft hair she even wondered how he managed. As his breathing became lighter, she sang songs to him in a whisper, suddenly wary with Santien's presence on the other side of the room. On Erestor's bedside table, the bouquet of bluebells was placed within a red vase.

* * *

***Luinell** - Bluebells (from _luin_ "blue", and _nell_ "bell")

***Eltiria** - Stargazers (from _el_ "stars" and _tiria_ "watch, gaze")(I kind of see them as the Lily Stargazers, you know? Those pretty flowers)

**Next Chapter:** Some history behind Erestor and Erynlith... and more Thranduil/Erynlith mischief with King Oropher.

**Author's Notes: **Yay for Thranduil and Erynlith meeting! For some reason, I can imagine Thranduil being very mischievous or something, making fun of other people and all that. He didn't even give her his real name! Apparently, our weird elf is not impressed. And yes, she thinks Erestor is a fondue ( ._.)

Thanks you all for the reviewers lat chapter: _xSiriuslyPadfoot_, _DeLacus_, _Rousdower _, and _xummy10_. Thank you very much for giving Erynlith your support (I'm sure she's singing about it somewhere by now). For fangirling over Amdir and Amroth, I'll give them to you in the upcoming chapters, DeLacus! Because those Sindarin kings need more love.

Please review! I'd be happy to read some feedback from you guys! Ciao! ( ˘ ³˘)❤


	6. Untold Stories Part 1

**Chapter 06**

_**Untold Stories Part 1**_

* * *

More days went by. Every morning it was the same: Erestor would wake up with a smiling Erynlith at his bedside, offering him new flowers. During her explorations around the forest, she found different flowers, but she always ended up giving him bluebells. Then, they would talk; Santien would redress his bandages and offer him the medicinal tea. They shared breakfasts and luncheons and dinners together; Erestor was very satisfied with it. Their companion had also awoken, Caladhir, and he spent most of his time attended by Santien and the other healers.

Erestor's wounds faded into scars. The one on his shoulder was already healed, albeit it still hurt at times. The wound on his thigh was greater, a deep puncture that had him bed-ridden for the days. The pain lingered sp painfully that it kept him awake during the night. But the presence of Erynlith had always reassured him.

"Are you brother and sister?" Santien had asked Erynlith one day; her curiosity got the best of her.

Erynlith looked up from Erestor's bedside as he slept peacefully. She was taken aback by that question, and it took her longer to respond than she expected. Were they brothers and sisters? She could not remember if they actually were. It had been too long for both of them to remember how it all began.

* * *

Somehow, some centuries ago, Erynlith remembered spending time with both her father and mother in Rivendell. Elrond, Celebrían, Gildor, and Erestor were all there to witness her childhood. Things took an unexpected turn when her parents suddenly did not return from a journey. And Erestor was with them back then. She remembered running out into the valley's bridge one rainy day, excited to greet and ask her father about their journey. But Erestor came. All alone. His silver armor was daunted and scratched; the once blue and white banner he held was deep with crimson. His dark eyes were blank and disheartened. His scouts rushed and took the banner from him; but he did not speak even as Elrond and Gildor asked of him what happened.

Erynlith remembered Celebrían holding and obscuring her view of the downfallen Erestor, falling into his knees without a word. She was but a child back then, too innocent of how the world worked. Elrond tried to snap Erestor out of it, using small words to know what had happened, and why he returned alone when he journeyed with _more_ than thirty elves. Erestor wavered then, lifting his head and locking his blank gaze at Erynlith.

"_Penneth,"_ he had whispered weakly. In that call, Erynlith removed Celebrían's arms around her and knelt in front of the captain. All of a sudden, Erestor wrapped his armor-plated arms about her small body, pulling her closer to him as he buried his face in her hair. Erynlith was in daze, but she melted into his embrace and kept silent. She was scared for some reason. She felt Erestor shaking beneath his cold armor as the rain began to pour harder.

"_Mellon nin_," Erynlith whispered back, trying to calm her friend. She looked at him in the eyes and said: "What's wrong? Where is everyone? Where are Father and Mother?"

Erestor shook his head in dismay; his grey eyes now glinted in tears. He embraced her once more, tighter this time as if he would never let her go. He began to sob; his tears cascaded onto her dress like the rain, and she became more scared for him than for herself. "I am sorry," he whispered; his voice was trembling with the sobs. "I am so sorry, little one. I have failed you. Forgive me… I am _so_ sorry."

She did not understand what he meant. All she knew was that Erestor was overwhelmed with grief and regret, and that her parents would never return to her. Tears fell silently as she bit her lip; there was much crying in the valley that day. Erestor kept his hold on her, firm and sure, as he mourned for their loss. From the embrace, Erynlith remembered looking up to see Elrond. Lady Celebrían was in his arms back then, crying and sobbing onto his chest. Elrond sighed and closed his eyes, also yielding to his grief. Then, Erynlith looked around for Gildor. The golden-haired Ñoldo cast his eyes on the marbled courtyard, not caring if the rain drenched his white cloak or himself.

Soon after that fateful day, Erestor came up to Elrond's council chambers and boldly announced that he would take Erynlith as his daughter. Everyone was shocked, and Gildor almost fell from his seat.

"Do you even hear yourself?" the Ñoldo demanded. He glanced at Elrond before continuing: "You _do_ know that the King of Lórinand is on his way to reclaim his niece, yes?" He hoped the answer was yes.

"I do," Erestor had answered sternly, his eyes ever focused on Elrond. "Even if the King claims Erynlith, I want her to stay with me, here in Rivendell."

"And why should that be?" Elrond said as he hushed Gildor back to his seat.

At that question, Erestor lowered his eyes and he turned solemn. "I feel responsible," he whispered. "I wish to set things right. And although I know Erynlith in Lórinand would be for the better, I simply cannot ignore that I have become too attached to her." Then, he had looked at Elrond again. "You know I am fading, Elrond. That was a mistake that I am willing to live with for the rest of my life. With Erynlith, I feel more alive. So, please… let her stay with me."

Elrond's dark eyes softened upon hearing those words. Erestor had been Erynlith's mentor as a child, whenever her father would go out hunting or her mother weaving with the other elf-maidens. He had basically been with her for the majority of her life, and they were inseparable friends. Ever since Erestor's lonely return, it was Erynlith who always visited him in his room, with one or two stories to share. At night, she would return to her own room and spend the cold night alone, without her parents to bid her goodnight.

Reluctantly, Elrond nodded, much to Gildor's surprise. "Very well, then… I will have to talk it over to the King if he would allow Erynlith to stay. But I should warn you that the King is quite territorial, especially with his family members, and would not hesitate to retaliate at your claim to his kin."

Erestor looked dauntless. "I will fight for my claim on her."

Two weeks later, the King of Lórinand and his son arrived in Rivendell. With them came a great entourage, and the golden-haired King was received with honor. He instantly demanded to see his niece, the daughter of his lost younger sister, but Erynlith did not come. She was latched onto Erestor's legs like a leech, her grip too tight on his pants. But Erestor faced the King courageously. As the two elves seemed to defy each other with blank looks, the King's son emerged from behind and invited his cousin elsewhere. At this, Erynlith remembered herself smiling and happily following her older cousin out into the courtyard.

The King of Lórinand and Erestor had a long talk. It took them hours to come into resolution. Apparently, Erynlith had chosen to stay with Erestor, whether the King would like it or not. Before the King could say something, his son agreed with Erynlith, his support had been with her from the start. With a heavy heart, the King also agreed and left back for Lórinand, after making Erestor promise that he and Erynlith would visit the forest every once in a while.

Everything was renewed. She was now considered Erestor's daughter, and everyone outside of Rivendell was convinced that it was really the case. Erestor did not fade anymore; he had someone to hold on to, after all. Elrond interpreted it as her love for Erestor. When he asked her why she chose to stay, Erynlith remembered telling Erestor: "I will never leave you behind."

* * *

Santien asked the same question again, and Erynlith was snapped back to reality. She realized she was staring into nothing as the auburn-haired healer passed by her. Santien placed a bowl beside Caladhir's bed and pressed a damp cloth on his forehead. She repeated the same question, now impatient, and she wondered if the other elf was listening at all.

"Are you brother and sister?"

Hearing the same question being asked for the third time, Erynlith smiled and nodded. "Yes, we are," she whispered. "It is a very long and interesting story, but Erestor and I are brother and sister, and maybe even more than that, tra-la-lay… I could sing the story if you want…"

"No, thank you." The auburn-haired healer wanted to spare herself from another eccentric song.

Erynlith smiled. Too many years were already spent since that day. They had come a long way from mentor and student, captain and admirer, father and daughter. Now, as the years passed, she was no longer the child Erestor had to keep an eye on. She grew into the elf he wanted her to be, although eccentric and immature at times. Whenever someone regarded their strong bond with each other, they were always Erestor and Erynlith. Brother and sister.

"I'm going out for a walk, tra-lo," Erynlith sang as she headed out. "Want me to get you something?"

Santien smiled at the younger elf's thoughtfulness. "No, I am good. Just be back early so I can check your right wrist. It doesn't hurt anymore, does it? Well, if it's not, I'll still see you later. And don't get in trouble, especially with Thranduil."

Erynlith nodded and went out, wondering who this Thranduil person was. She did not remember being introduced to someone named Thranduil. At first she guessed it was the friendly dark-haired Captain of the Guards, but then she remembered his name was something else… Raithon, was it? Perchance it was the relentless blond elf guard who bullied her since day one. But his name was… Lascalen, right?

Shrugging, she entered the palace. Few of the Silvan elves already knew her; they had heard from their King a great deal about the newcomers. The Silvan greeted her cordially, something very heartwarming for her. And she would greet them back and move on to her business. Speaking of the King, she had never met him since they had arrived in the Greenwood.

_I suppose the King was too busy for commoners_, she thought.

* * *

Thranduil's eyebrow twitched as the Captain of the Guards smirked at him, and he did not even know why he was smirking. Somehow, it made him inferior. He was Thranduil, Prince of Greenwood the Great. How could his friend make him feel lower than he was? As Raithon went ever closer, Thranduil took away the sketch he was working on and waited for his friend.

"Don't give me that look," he said as Raithon curled up on the seat next to him. They were in the library, Thranduil's favorite place to doze off. "What do you want? And what are you doing here?"

Raithon tapped the wooden table absentmindedly. "I just visited the infirmary to see how Santien and the others are doing."

Thranduil yawned lazily, clearly uninterested. "Great. Where do I come in?"

"I wanted to ask how things are going with you and the other injured one," Raithon said. When Thranduil raised his eyebrow in inquiry, the captain sighed and groaned. "You're quite slow today, aren't you? You know… that strange minstrel you keep talking about the other day."

"Oh," was all Thranduil could say; realization dawned to him late. He shifted in his seat so that his legs were above the table. "I haven't visited the infirmary for days. Work keeps on getting to me, you know. Why are you even asking? And I don't think she's a minstrel; just a very confused elf who took a blow on the head, maybe."

Raithon laughed. "Well, minstrel or not, I heard from the other guards she sang for them last night. Everyone was cooped up in the outpost just to hear her sing."

"What?!" Thranduil jerked up and fell from his chair.

"Are you alright?!" Raithon instantly stood up, checking if his friend was fine.

Thranduil emerged beneath the table and glared at the captain. "What do you mean she was at the outpost last night?"

"How should I know?" Raithon shrugged, returning to his seat. "I was out patrolling the forest last night. The wargs are lingering near the mountains. Anyway, aren't you supposed to be updated with the things going on the palace?"

"Apparently not," Thranduil scoffed. "Who would even invite such a strange elf in the outpost? And why would she even come?"

"Thranduil, I don't know everything, okay?" The captain sighed. Then, his smirk turned sly. "Why don't you ask her?"

The elf prince tilted his head to the side questioningly. Raithon rolled his eyes and said: "Oh, come on, Thranduil. Don't tell me you don't know she is in the palace even as we speak."

"What is she even doing here?" The prince growled and went for the doorway. "She's supposed to be in the infirmary!"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to give Santien a piece of my mind!"

Raithon waved a hand. "Good luck with that. Make sure she doesn't slam the door before you could even speak!"

Thranduil hurried back into the infirmary; the fact that Erynlith was in the palace was lost in his mind temporarily. What part of 'watching over the injured' did Santien not understand? She could keep Caladhir and Erestor on check, but not Erynlith? He shook his head in disbelief, pace getting faster as he reached the end of the hallway. An arched corridor connected the palace to the infirmary and other buildings. When he arrived there, he was surprised that Santien was not around. The younger healers were there to greet the elf prince, and they asked what he wanted. Thranduil only shook his head and smiled a little. Then, he went over to Erestor's bed to see how he was doing.

As he was about to leave, his eyes caught two white daggers on top of the bedside table, just beside the red vase of bluebells. His smiled widened. _She kept picking out the flowers despite my warning_, he thought in amusement. He reached out for the daggers and remembered seeing them before. When he rescued Erynlith in the forest, he saw these daggers strapped behind her back.

"My lord," one of the healers asked.

He turned around swiftly and hid the knives within his jerkin. "Yes?"

"Is there anything else you would like to ask?"

Again, he only shook his head in response. "No, I'll get going now. If Erestor wakes, send him my regards. And to Santien, I'll have a word with her when she gets back." He turned his heels and then left.

As he marched back towards the palace, quite in dismay for not seeing Santien, he twirled one dagger between his long fingers, skillfully as had always been with weapons. The blade gleamed under the sun and suddenly, he smirked to himself. Now that he was free, he could do something to pass the time. He remembered Raithon telling him that Erynlith was in the palace.

_I have to find her_, he thought and went on.

* * *

Erynlith grunted and stretched out even more. She swore she could hear her skin tearing out for reaching too much, but she did not care anymore. Somewhere in the palace, she stood upon a wooden chair, her right arm reaching out of the window. On the other side, there was a tree and a bird nest. When she walked in these corridors earlier, she heard the birds chirping and singing. Quickly, Erynlith searched for a chair. And now, she was trying to touch the birds.

"Just… a little… farther…" she told herself, fingers twitching to pet the birds. It was a surprise they had not flown away yet.

On the other side of the dark and quiet corridor, King Oropher walked. He used this pathway as a shortcut into his throne room. It was a relief for him that it was rarely used. The walls around the corridor were carved with stories and songs, of ballads and of legends. Few round windows were there to provide sunlight in the morning as lamps did during the night. Oropher blinked at the sight of Erynlith, her back turned against him, leaning out the small window. He peered behind her, wondering what it was that she was reaching for, but could not come into conclusion.

And so, he asked her.

"What are you doing?"

Erynlith yelped and slipped her footing from the chair, falling into the floor. Oropher quickly rushed towards her but she stood up before he could get to her. "I'm okay, tra-lay… oh, I rhymed!" she exclaimed happily, dusting her borrowed green dress off. As she lifted her head up, she blinked at the familiar face. "Have we… met before?"

King Oropher chuckled. He knew it would be hard for her to remember him given the state of shock she was in during their first meeting. He was clad now only in his casual brown and red robes, in appreciation for this month's autumn. On his head was a round silver circlet, and in his hand an oakenstaff. He thought he did not look kingly at all.

"We have," he said gently. "But I will not try to keep you from… whatever you were doing before. Are you sure you're alright?"

"A hundred percent, tra-la," Erynlith chirped and the King laughed.

"Well, excuse me. I have thi—"

"Adar!" Thranduil called out and his smile was broad. He was yet to notice that Erynlith was also there. He almost ran to greet his father, but when Oropher gestured over to Erynlith, Thranduil suddenly paused from his tracks, his eyes widening. Did he just call the King his _father_ in front of her? He could slap his forehead right now; Erynlith was still unaware that he was the son of the King, and that his name was actually Thranduil, _not_ 'Lascalen'.

"Um, I…" Thranduil thought for an excuse. "My Lord," he finally said, bowing politely and Oropher quickly joined his game of dramatics. "Please, excuse me for taking Lady Erynlith now. She needs to be admitted back into the infirmary as requested by the healers."

Oropher nodded. "Of course, Lascalen," he said, already knowing what his son would have introduced himself. Thranduil had always loved that name. He smiled at Erynlith and said: "It is nice meeting you today, Lady Erynlith. I will see you around the palace."

Thranduil eyed the Elvenking sharply, and Oropher leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Have fun with your minstrel," the King said, and then winked mischievously. Turning to the female elf, he gave a broad grin. "Lady Erynlith, could you keep my elf guard occupied for a little while? It seems he _loves_ your company."

The Prince gawked at his father.

Erynlith nodded a little, still confused of the happenings. "Um, okay, tra-la…"

With a last wink, Oropher left them be, humming a tune as he walked away.

"What were you doing?" Thranduil demanded sharply when his father was already out of sight. He stomped, almost angrily, towards her. "Do you know who you're dealing with?"

She shook her head honestly. "No, tra-la… Who was he, by the way? He seemed friendly, tra-lo."

"He seemed _friendly_?!" Thranduil repeated. He could not believe this elf! He grabbed her by the elbow, careful to be gentle not to hurt her, and led her out of the once-silent corridor. Erynlith followed him though, a sour expression on her face.

"Why are you even here?" she asked as they reached a much lighter hallway. "Lady Santien told me not to talk to you, tra-la. You are troublesome and a bully. Let go of my arm, tra-lo." But her threat did not seem to worry him, as she spoke queerly in her singsongs.

"Well!" It was his turn to sneer at her. "Excuse _you_! Do you even know who you're talking to?"

She huffed. "I don't know, and I don't care."

Thranduil could swear something right now. He had always regarded himself as a patient elf, no matter what happened. Here he was, arguing with an elf he barely knew, and his patience was once again tested after the years. Still, he remained his composure, glaring at Erynlith instead. Perhaps he should have anticipated some sharpness of tongue; she spent years with Erestor, someone who was quick-witted and sharp enough to even go against Elrond in debates.

"Very unbelievable!" Thranduil said exasperatedly and walked away. A small smile crept up on Erynlith's lips as she followed him; the red string of fate already drawing them closer.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Thranduil plays a game with Erynlith. Troubles brew.

**Author's Note:** Why, hello to our little flashback. Hoped you guys liked that bit; it was pure narrative and stuff. But hey! We've got another mischief going on here, and King Oropher likes to tease his son when the chance strikes. Thranduil may have inherited his sass there.

Who's looking forward for the next chapter? *raises hand frantically* I am, I am!

***She Elf of Hidden Love** - Thanks so much for the many reviews! I'm glad you like the story. Hope you stay here with us!

***DeLacus** - Can't say if you like the Oropher mischief, since it was short, but I tried my best! With an update now, can I have some cheesecake? I'll probably add some more with Amdir and Amroth in the next two chapters. #TeamSindarinElves

***Rousdower** - Let's always be random! *throws party* Thanks for the review by the way!~

***xummy10** - I'll try to make their relationship more interesting for you! Thanks for stopping by!

***Guest** - Thank you! Stay with me, it gets better. LOL

**P.S.** I am trying to work on a new Haldir/OC fic. Yeah, my imagination whirled this morning and now I have a plot in mind. What kind of OC would you like to have this time? We've got the childish, troublemaker Arestel from _A Long-Expected Adventure_, the weird singing Erynlith in this one. Let me know if you have suggestions. Haldir needs more love. #TeamGaladhrim could work... but ok.

**P.P.S.** Reviews are always appreciated. Laters!~


	7. Our Little Games

**Chapter 07**

_**Our Little Games**_

* * *

Thranduil could feel his companion's eyes boring through him as they walked silently side-by side. He ignored her purposely, setting his gaze up ahead. In all honesty, he did not know where he was going, but Erynlith seemed to be satisfied in following him around. He felt an urge to glance at her, and he did, meeting her grey eyes for a split second. He refrained sighing; it would be awkward to do so. Instead, he dipped his hands in his pockets and was surprised by the sudden coldness. He felt for the tip of the blade, suddenly remembering he had taken two daggers from the infirmary earlier. Then, he smirked, pulling one dagger for his eccentric companion to see.

"I have something for you," he said and showed the blades. Erynlith's eyes widened at the sight of those.

Acting on impulse, she reached out to grab it, but Thranduil easily held it up, smirking. Again, she tried, running after the outstretched hand, trying to get hold of her daggers, and the other elf laughed at the sight. She looked like a child being captivated by a toy.

"Give that back!" Erynlith shouted as she jumped.

He withdrew his hand away for her. "No."

Her face flushed in frustration. Still, Erynlith jumped and held Thranduil's arm but to reach the daggers, there was no avail. "Give it back, I said!" she shouted again, getting tired of his antics.

Erynlith supported herself by gripping his shoulder, and then jumped to snatch the daggers. But Thranduil anticipated this, and countered her attempt by swinging his hand out of the way. Luckily, no elves were around to witness such foolish and childlike play. She panted and glared at him, to which he only returned with a mocking grin.

"You are acting like a child!" she exclaimed. "I demand you to give that back!"

"Beg me." Thranduil's voice was deep with mockery.

"Not-on-your-life," Erynlith quickly said. She clutched her long skirt out of the way and charged again, only to be dodged, and she hit her forehead on the wooden railing behind.

"Ow!" she cried, covering her aching forehead. Thranduil stopped and quickly rushed towards her, scanning if her forehead was in any way damaged. The King Oropher would surely be disappointed the way his son treated their guest from Imladris.

Just as Thranduil knelt beside her, Erynlith reached out for the dagger, but it was whisked away again. Looking up at him, she was greeted by another smug look. "Nice try, little one," he smirked, standing up from his kneeling position.

Thranduil left her sitting on the ground, her legs crossed as she glared profusely at him. He held back an upcoming laughter, biting his lower lip as he did so. As in mockery, he showed the dagger and twirled it again between his fingers, ever so skillfully. He heard Erynlith muttering something under her breath as she stood up and fixed her skirt.

"This is most likely yours, isn't it?" he crooned, casually leaning one arm above the wooden railing. "Aren't you going to get this back?"

Erynlith rolled her eyes at him, feeling like a complete idiot for playing his game. She huffed and turned away. Thranduil followed, of course, and he placed the dagger back into his pocket. He knew the little game would be over, and it was fun while it lasted. It was not everyday someone got to play around with the Prince of Greenwood, after all. And she didn't have the slightest idea of who he was.

As they marched on, Thranduil realized that Erynlith was not returning to the infirmary yet. It was still early in the afternoon, too soon for her to report back to Santien. And so, they walked again in awkward silence, with Erynlith trying to ignore the elf behind her. They passed the Elven-guard's outpost, and Thranduil was surprised that some of the guards knew Erynlith. She was greeted by the guards, and was even asked to sing for them again that night.

_So Raithon was telling the truth_, he thought as the guards also acknowledged him. Erynlith turned to him in confusion, wondering why the guards were putting so much respect on this arrogant elf.

_This is worth a tease_, Thranduil thought. "So, you have met the King, haven't you?"

Erynlith did not look at him, but she shrugged. "I don't know. He never visited the infirmary anyway."

He could almost gawk at her absentmindedness. Wasn't she standing face-to-face with the King some twenty minutes earlier? How could she not pick that small detail up? What was wrong with her? Apparently, _everything_ was wrong with her. Thranduil was very much convinced she was deluded.

"Have you ever thought of the King having a son?" he continued, mentally adding 'an extremely flawless son'.

She gave him a useless shrug. "Doesn't matter."

He blinked at her and tried again. "Have you met royalty in your life? Some king or prince perhaps?"

"Believe me," Erynlith sighed. "I know two of them, and they are pesky. One is too territorial and the other too humble. Don't ask."

He was disappointed not to hear her sing her words. "Would it surprise if you if I tell you some of my secrets?" Thranduil simpered and smirked down at her.

Her eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

"That I am a prince."

"Who is?"

"I am."

"Am what?"

"A prince?"

"Who?"

"I am a prince."

She snorted. "Yeah, and I'm the princess of some place. Good for you."

"No, I am serious. Dead serious," Thranduil said.

"Oh, I was being serious, too." Erynlith rolled her eyes again, already tiring out of this little game.

"Serious?" Thranduil crooned mockingly, blocking her way. "Is that how you sound by being serious?" Erynlith finally turned to face him, glaring. But, he continued: "Serious… really? Why am I not hearing anymore of this 'tra-la-la' thing of yours?"

Her face flushed in embarrassment; that was only for Erestor to hear. She bit her lip, feeling helpless at his taunting assault. She was not the one for violent outbursts, but she accounted herself for being sharp-tongued. Her arguments with Erestor were mostly sarcastic and childish, never going too far. And he was patient with her as she was with him. She looked up again at Thranduil; his smile alone was mocking her. She searched for an excuse.

But Thranduil continued again: "What? You are speechless, tra-la-lay." He mocked in a singsong manner.

She fumed at that. Letting go of her frustration, she pushed him out of the way. "Don't talk to me ever again!"

"Tra-la-la?" Thranduil insisted, chuckling as he watched her walk away.

When Erynlith did not look at him, he huffed and turned his heels back into the palace. He clenched his jaw sternly, suddenly feeling the rush of disappointment within him, and he didn't even know why. He expected that Erynlith would snap something sarcastic back, something that would keep the tease and conversation going, but she did not.

As he reentered the palace, his disappointment turned into irritation. He ignored the Silvan elves greeting him, and had almost ignored Raithon.

"Hey!" The Captain tapped his friend's shoulder. He was clad in a green and brown hunter's garb, a bow and quiver strapped behind his back. Thranduil looked at him blankly. "Are you alright? Did something happen?"

Thranduil shook his head back and closed his eyes. "Yeah, um, just a little dazed, I guess. What's up?"

Raithon looked unconvinced. "Well, since you have been with your little lady, the other guards told me she'll be visiting the outpost tonight. Maybe you should come. You missed her last night?"

"Not interested," Thranduil said. "I don't really feel enthusiastic about that. And since when did she become an entertainer? The King wouldn't appreciate if she was treated as such."

"Come on!" Raithon laughed. "She's not the only one. Some of the healers are coming, too. I don't know about Santien though. She basically hates people on a daily basis. It will just be a little feast, like we always do in the spring, remember?"

The blond shrugged.

"You're not really coming?"

"I'll think about it." But Thranduil was less than interested to even go.

"Well, do think about it," Raithon insisted, walking away. He waved a hand at his friend. "I have to patrol the forest before returning to the outpost. Wargs are still lingering near the river, those wicked creatures. See you later!"

Thranduil sighed at the enthusiasm of his friend. Why couldn't he be like Raithon?

It was still afternoon and he felt as if his energy was already drained. He removed his silver brocade and the white daggers in his pocket, his circlet and ring carefully placed aside. Then, he flopped on his bed, feeling sleep all of a sudden. His thoughts returned to what his energetic friend had told him, that Erynlith and the other healers would be spending a little feast in the Elven-guard's outpost. Somehow, it was good to know Erynlith was making friends aside Erestor and Santien. But there was something ticking him off badly.

* * *

Erynlith dropped into her knees and placed the bouquet of bluebells down. She stared intently at the little fox in front of her; she was convinced it was the same fox she "befriended" almost a week ago. She smiled and reached out for its head, and it obliged immediately, scrambling with its little feet towards her. It sniffed her dress and then the bluebells; that small black nose wiggled around for treats. Erynlith patted the head and picked up the bouquet for Erestor.

"I'll see you later, puppy, tra-la-la…" she cooed and returned to the infirmary.

"Where have you been?" Santien asked impatiently. Her arms were crossed and her eyebrow arched snobbishly. "I told you to be back by afternoon."

Erynlith shrugged. "I said I'll be back _later, _tra-lo. Is Erestor awake yet?" She frowned when he was still lying on bed. She turned to Santien again. "Well, now what?"

The auburn-haired healer shook her head. "You can help me with them if you want. You don't have anything to do later this day?"

"Not that I know of, tra-lil-lay" Erynlith sang. She remembered the offer of the guards. Her first time in the outpost was a rather enjoyable one. They were all friendly and full of humor; she preferred their company more than Thranduil's. "The guards said something about a little get-together in the outpost again, tra-la," she said.

"And you're coming?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Santien did not look happy about it. "Suit yourself."

The following night, some of the healers fetched Erynlith from infirmary. They were all ecstatic about having a little feast, and they practically dragged Erynlith out. It was indeed a small feast, few Silvan elves were present. Bread and wine and fruits were served; the minstrels were on one corner. It was a rather quiet event; the guards were too careful to create much noise. Erynlith sat in the crowd of healers, and the Captain of the Guards smiled and sat down beside her.

"Erynlith, yes?" he asked cordially, and then sipped lightly from his wine. He had a comely appearance in contrast with his companions, and his bright smile had always been a bonus to his cheerful demeanor.

She nodded and smiled. "Raithon?"

"You remember!" the captain beamed happily, and she laughed. She liked him better than a certain blond elf. "Are you having a good time? Just tell me, we can spur things up, you know."

"I'll tell you," she said, and felt another need to add 'tra-la-la'. Just remembering that made her miss Erestor.

It went on and went. Elves interacted, made friends, and shared idle talks. It was all good before a series of howling interrupted the singing of the minstrels. Everyone stopped and looked up. The Silvan citizens huddled closer together as the Elven-guard suddenly went into position. They dropped their drinks and grabbed their bows and arrows. Raithon commanded them; his once friendly demeanor was turned into this battle-ready captain. Erynlith watched in awe; he was like Erestor in some way. Welcoming but deadly. Seriously deadly. As the Elven-guard was about to leave the outpost, Raithon's commands were dominated by the sound of panicked horse neighs.

"Arcastar?" Erynlith looked outside. Indeed, it was her black horse that was neighing and sprinting wildly in the forest. How did it get out of the stables? She hurried towards her horse to calm him down, but as Arcastar thrashed around, kicking and rearing nonstop, Erynlith was thrown onto its back. She gasped and clutched on the horse's dark mane as it bolted away from the outpost, the howls of the wargs echoing behind them.

* * *

It was dinner by then. He and his father talked about nothing in particular, only little reports in the palace here and there. Oropher inquired about Thranduil's activities today, which were answered truthfully. Thranduil left out the little game with Erynlith that afternoon, still feeling quite irritated for some reason. But then, Oropher brought the topic up much to son's annoyance.

"You've talked to her?" the King had asked him. "She seems like a nice maid."

Thranduil shrugged lazily. "Sort of."

The King paused, suddenly concerned. Perchance it was no time for fun and games after all. "Did something happen?"

And it was their conversation in a nutshell. Thranduil excused himself after that. He was convinced that he would return to his cold chambers and spend the rest of the night there. As he went closer to his beloved chambers, his skin tingled with the anticipation for a hot bath, Raithon ran up to him with some of the guards.

"Raithon," the blond addressed his friend.

"I have been looking for you!" Raithon said, taking Thranduil by the arm and pulling him with them. The Prince gave his friend an annoyed look. "No time to explain!" the dark-haired elf said; his steps had became faster until he and Thranduil were practically running in the forest. "Your new friend has left Greenwood. To make things worse, she and her horse are followed by Wargs!"

The blood in Thranduil's vein ran cold and he felt his strides getting longer and faster with each passing moment.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** The trouble continues and it drags someone else into the field. Who? Warning: Lots of action scenes!

**Author's Notes:** Yes, I made them play like little children ( ._.) But it looks like Thranduil gets oversensitive when things don't go his way.

***Rousdower** - Thank you very much for the suggestion! I think I'm starting to picture another OC now. We'll give Mr. Grumpy-Pants-Marchwarden Haldir a weird OC, won't we? Someone who annoys him constantly? *insert evil laugh here*

***DeLacus** - #LorienDoubleA made me laugh so hard! XDDD I just realized their names _do_ start with A! Their team sounds like a badass action movie! Someone needs to raise awareness of their pair, and so is the #TeamSindarinElves or more like Daddy Oropher and Thranduil, I 'unno. And yes, Raithon! Yay, thanks so much! *eats more cheesecake* Where do this stuff come from? LOL.

***asopo339** - Thank you very much! I must warn you though, this fic gets darker with each chapter. （°o°；） Hope I didn't scare you. I'm so sorry!

***xSiriuslyPadfoot** - Long reviews are always welcomed! Thank you for the suggestion too! Cheers!

**P.S.** My friend said the Battle of the Five Armies trailer will come out on Friday. *le gasp* But I'm not sure if it will, just a rumor I guess. If it will come out, take this as an early gift from me! Can't wait to see Thranduil and his elves in armor! *drools*

**P.P.S. **Please review! Reviews are wonderful things to have, like pizza... or chocolates and cookies... But reviews are better! :) Laters!~


	8. Disgusting Trouble

**Chapter 08**

_**Disgusting Trouble**_

* * *

Arcastar was running frantically and its rider fought for balance. It winded through any corner available, the distant howls came closer and closer as they advanced. The cold winds blew, chilling the rider down to her bones, and she wished her cloak was there with her. Again, the howls sounded. In fear, she looked around, eyes in desperate search of the pursuers. Her clutch on the reins became tighter, her knuckles paled. Then, Arcastar jumped over an overgrown root, and Erynlith almost slipped off the saddle.

"Easy!" she said, soothing the horse by its muzzle. It would be hard to get the horse to turn back now. The horse neighed in understanding. For a moment, she praised Erestor for training this horse well.

Arcastar's hooves thundered across the grassy pathways of Greenwood. Suddenly, it stopped, and Erynlith rejoiced. They had reached the forest clearing and the Great River Anduin was up ahead. A smile came across her lips, and she patted the horse's neck in thanks. Now, all she had to do was to find the wooden bridge that connected Greenwood to Lórinand. She narrowed her eyes and looked around. The moonlight was enough to show her the raging waters of the river, but there was no sign of the bridge. Was it possible they had taken the wrong way?

Behind her, the howls sounded and lengthened. Arcastar jolted up in fear, standing on its hind legs and neighed loudly. As it landed on its front legs, two wargs had already come up to them, fangs baring, throats releasing growls. Erynlith gulped and sat frozen upon the horse's back, and the wargs slowly approached them, careful and predatory. Sensing its rider's passiveness, Arcastar neighed again and sprinted pass through the wargs, and back into the forest. The branch that hit her face snapped her back to reality, and it was when Erynlith realized that the previous two wargs were now joined by three more.

"Faster, Arcastar!" she cried. She looked back and a warg almost pounced on her if not for the protruding tree branch. "Faster!"

* * *

The marchwardens of Lórinand were roused. From their outpost, they could hear wild neighs and angry howls coming beyond the river. Some of the wardens, who were on patrol, reported that they had seen glimpse of a black horse and a lady confronted by wargs. And it was not all; the whole pack which temporarily stayed near the Gladden Fields. This pack had been there for a while, and the Elven-guard of Greenwood was yet to exterminate them.

"Do you not think we should see into it?" a warden said, his eyes searching around for the grey horse.

"Whatever it is, Greenwood's guards could handle it," said the other and went back to his work.

Whispers in the outpost reached the heart of the forest, and soon the Prince.

"Someone is in Greenwood this late at night?" Amroth asked incredulously, ascending the outpost of the marchwardens. His gaze was focused on the river up ahead and beyond it. His hearing could pick up faint growls and struggles. Quickly, he grabbed a bow and said, "Come. Let us hunt ourselves some wargs." Then, he smiled to encourage his companions. "A little sport at night shouldn't hurt."

* * *

Erynlith bit her lip in panic. She could almost taste the copper of her blood. Arcastar was getting exhausted; the wargs were leading them around in circles, such was the way of predators: tiring their prey before taking them out. Even for an Elven-horse, the chase was too tiring and engaging. Erynlith had not fought back. There was nothing on except for the saddle. Arcastar neighed eagerly again, and then reared. A brown-furred warg with yellow eyes pounced in front of the horse. Arcastar backed away instantly, only to be blocked by the oncoming wargs. In other words, they were cornered; some six or more wargs were already stalking their prey. The one in the front plunged in, claws first.

Erynlith swiftly slipped back from the saddle, took a broken tree branch, and attacked the warg with it. The warg was thrown aside by the impact.

Her face brightened. "Did you see that?" she asked enthusiastically to Arcastar. Oh, Erestor would have been _proud_ of her. But there was no answer, only threatening growls from the warg's companions. Following her previous suit, Erynlith swung the heavy branch, taking out another warg. She felt more confident, but the horse beside her, disagreed.

Arcastar was caught by a warg which pounced onto its rear. The warg sunk its fangs onto the meaty flesh, and the horse cried in agony. It reared once more and sprinted off into the forest, followed by two wargs. Erynltih watched in horror as she was left behind with three more wargs to deal with. Her grip on the branch loosened; she suddenly felt discouraged. Where was the Elven-guard when you needed them?

_I am getting punished_, she thought gravely. _I promise not to annoy Erestor anymore_, she prayed.

But her prayer was not answered. One warg pounced toward her again, a silver one with brown streaks on its fur. Droplets of saliva dripped down from its hungry mouth, bloodshot eyes darkening in anticipation. Another two came up behind the first one, cornering her between the thick trunks of oak trees. Erynlith helplessly clutched the branch in her hand.

The first warg sprinted towards her. Erynltih dived onto the ground; her face hitting the earth. Then, she desperately scrambled back onto her feet and ran past through the other two wargs. Her attackers growled and ran after her. She looked back for a fraction of second and saw the wargs already catching up to her. One came up behind her and closed in. She swung the branch and knocked the warg's head with it. The warg winced and drew back as the branch vibrated in her touch.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Erynlith panted.

Suddenly, the chase between her and the wargs are interrupted. From the direction she was heading, a couple of arrows rained down, aiming behind her. In her surprise she abruptly looked behind; the wargs cried in pain as they fell on the ground. Turning around again, a second group arrived, gliding through the trees, skillfully and rapidly. Next, a loud neigh greeted her. It was Arcastar! Erynlith sighed in relief and ran to meet her dark friend, but realized that Arcastar was still followed by the two wargs from before.

The elves above the trees drew out their bows and fired. Arcastar was luckily missed from the assault and all wargs fell dead. The horse automatically went to Erynlith and rubbed its muzzle against her shoulder. She smiled and patted the muzzle gently.

The next thing that happened was not so gentle anymore. She was grabbed by the waist, a strong arm coiling around her all of a sudden. She fought to protest, the face of her assailant still unseen. Then, she realized that she was pushed back to join a group of the Woodland guard. A familiar face smiled at her, and Erynlith studied his face carefully as the Elven-guard circled around her. The dark-haired Captain of the Guards smiled warmly and waved a hand at her.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Raithon asked.

She could only nod. The overwhelming fear and relief still coursed through her veins. Her eyes searched for the one who grabbed her; his back turned against her. In his right hand he held a wooden recurve bow; on the other was a slender sword. She looked ahead; an unfamiliar group of elves were also present. She tried to see who they were, but the Greenwood guards were starting to take her away from the scene.

Thranduil confronted the newly-arrived Elves. Their fair hair and bright eyes were easy to place. These were the Nandor of Lórinand, of King Amdír's people. The Silvan of Greenwood had great relationship with them, and there was great alliance between the two forests. At the sight of these elves, Thranduil's anger toned down; his chest was not heaving anymore, and his grip on his bow and sword loosened.

"Prince Amroth," he acknowledged cordially. The said elf prince turned to him and Thranduil held out his palm in greeting. _"Mae govannen, mellonin nin. Gwannas lû and."_

Amroth smiled and shook his hand. _"'Quel undome, Tharanduil,"_ he said. _"Lle ume quel."_

"Please," said Thranduil, slightly laughing. "I am delighted to see you again. What prompted you to cross the Great River?"

"We heard the wargs," said the other prince. "We thought we should help one of our Silvan kindred."

Thranduil glanced back to Erynlith, who was still attended by Raithon and his guards, and then turned again to Amroth. "Well, I am indebted with your help. It would make me feel better if you and your companions come with us back to the palace. The King will receive you well."

"Of course," Amroth agreed without hesitation. "I will feel honored to be in the King's halls again."

"Come with us, then," said Thranduil and turned to walk away. "But first, please excuse me; I have to attend to my friend."

The Greenwood Prince nodded a little, and went back to his group of Silvan elves. The Elven-guard gathered around him, whispered incoherent Silvan dialect, and Thranduil answered them in the same language. Amroth's grey eyes followed Thranduil's trail, slightly shifting his head to have a better view of the maiden they had just saved. But she was huddled closely to the guards, between the leader and the elf prince. Her dark hair shrouded her face, and the moonlight was not enough light.

Amroth felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Turning about, his lieutenant marchwarden stepped forward and whispered: "What shall we do now, my lord?"

The elf prince in question also leaned close; his voice came in a careful whisper. "We will be admitted into King Oropher's palace. Send a messenger for King Amdír; tell him to follow us there. My intuition is tingling."

The marchwarden nodded and stealthily ran back towards the forest clearing, followed by few other wardens. Amroth turned again to see Thranduil and his guards, but to his surprise, he was kneeling in front of the maiden.

Thranduil passed through his guards and knelt quietly beside Erynlith. She snuggled under the dark cloak Raithon had offered her earlier, and on her hand was a brown waterskin. She looked up when he came, and there was neither glare nor smirk that was present. Thranduil's icy gaze pierced her, and she instantly looked down. How could she face him now?

"Disgusting trouble," Thranduil muttered angrily under his breath.

It was then that she realized that he was already kneeling in front, his eyes gazing directly into hers. Erynlith looked away. "Hey," she whispered rather weakly.

"You alright? Are you hurt anywhere?" he said, scanning her face. His sour mood suddenly turned worried.

She shook her head. "I'm good. Just a bit tired, I guess. How did you find us?"

Thranduil smiled. "I have my ways. Besides, you did not leave very stealthily either. What do you expect?" He did not expect to see her smile; even it was a just little smile. He would have returned the gesture if not for the reddening scratches on her left cheek. His eyes narrowed and his hands immediately reached out for it. "What happened here?" he asked, shifting her cheek a little so he could have a better view. But he did not give her time to answer. "Stay here," he ordered sternly and stood up.

Erynlith waited. She had no idea what Thranduil had in his mind, and she could care less. He returned shortly, another waterskin on hand. He knelt again and pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket, and drenched the cloth in water. Without words, Thranduil pressed the cloth against her cheek and she flinched at the coldness.

"Let me," Erynlith said, trying to take the cloth from him. She winced when the cold cloth touched her cheek.

Thranduil pulled it out of her reach and said, "No."

She groaned and rolled her eyes. Thranduil smiled; there it was! The Thranduil she knew, was it Lascalen? "Really, now…" she said exasperatedly, her hand still reaching out for the wet handkerchief. "Give that to me. I can manage on my own."

"I don't think so," he countered. He was somehow disappointment not to hear her sing. "You can't even save yourself from few wargs, tra-la-la."

Her eyebrow twitched. "I could have handled them perfectly," she snorted. "Give me that and leave me alone!"

"Does it hurt?" Thranduil asked in a concerned voice, but she did not answer. Just then, he pressed the cold cloth against her scratched cheek, too rigid for Erynlith's liking. She yelped at the sudden contact and slight pain. "Does it _hurt_?" Thranduil asked again, his voice now laced with sarcasm.

"It did _not_ until you started acting like a jerk again!" Erynlith shouted and slapped his probing hand away.

"Alright, forgive me." Thranduil's demeanor then turned silent and somewhat serious. His hand continued to soothe her cheek, now gentle and with care, and Erynlith finally relaxed into it. "I can't believe you," Thranduil whispered nonchalantly. "You always argue with me and then all of sudden, I rescue you from trouble. Very unbelievable."

Erynlith sighed in relief; the stinging sensation on her cheek had already faded. Then, she smiled as thank for his so-called rescue. "Thank you for coming. I'm very grateful, tra-la-lay."

Thranduil smiled warmly. It had been a while since he heard that. His irritation finally dissipated and he could do this for the rest of the night. He already felt that she was warming up to him, and it was good enough for him.

Soon after, Raithon called back the Elven-guard. The Silvan elves marched back neatly in two lines, with Thranduil and Erynlith walking between them. The host of Lórinand, led by Prince Amroth, marched behind the Silvan elves. Amroth's eyes were still on the maiden whose face he still did not see. It seemed that Thranduil did not even give him a chance to introduce himself to her. Thranduil's arms were behind her back, guiding her carefully as if she would suddenly collapse. His back and pale golden hair obscured most of the maiden, and Amroth could only see her arms. When Erynlith tried looking back, Thranduil would quickly turn her look ahead on the road or on _him_.

"Who is it?" she asked, trying hard to see who it was, but Thranduil would still block her view.

He shrugged. "No one, really. You'll meet him once you feel better."

"I _do_ feel better," she countered. Again, she looked behind her, only to be pulled away by the wrist. She groaned. "What is your problem?"

"Nothing!" he said in his defense. "You know what? Let's just return to the palace. It's way past your bedtime."

Then, Erynlith remembered something important. She bit her lip and tugged on Thranduil's tunic sleeve, prompting him to look down at her once again. She looked worried about something. "Lascalen," she whispered, and his ears perked up almost in a cat-like manner upon hearing that name. She had never called him by that, even when Lascalen was just a phony name he invented before. It felt different to be called by someone else's name.

"Yes?" he asked thoughtfully.

She gripped his sleeve tighter; Thranduil could swear he could hear ripping noises. She bit her lip even more. She tiptoed to whisper in his ear and he leaned down closer. "Please, don't tell Erestor."

He chuckled but nodded. He leaned closer to whisper back. "Sure thing. But the name is _Thranduil_, tra-la-lay."

* * *

*_"Mae govannen, mellonin nin. Gwannas lû and."_ (Well met, my friend. It has been too long.)

*_"'Quel undome, Tharanduil. __Lle ume quel."_ (Good evening, Thranduil. You did well.)

**Next Chapter:** The spotlight goes to Prince Amroth!

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, I couldn't stop myself from creating another battle scene. I just _can't_ stop doing them! I'm sorry! (-_-;) But yay for some action elves, and the Amroth and Thranduil confrontation, I guess?

***dreams-in-the-dirt** - Welcome and enjoy the story! Thank you very much for the review!

***xSiriuslyPadfoot** - Yep, the Haldir/OC story still needs to be "polished" before I write it down. But thanks for the support and the review! I hope you liked the chapter! :)

***DeLacus** - Thanks! Erestor was always portrayed as the "scholar" type so I wanted to see him in action, more like Glorfindel! And about #LorienDoubleA, I can already picture Amroth and Amdir in black tuxedos and shades, and Daddy Oropher swings in his desk chair like a boss! XDDD The next three or more chapters will heavily feature them, so hurray for their team!

And the cheesecakes!

***Rousdower** - Everyone is in hot water! This chapter cools the water down a bit, no? And I meant that to be the Battle of Five Armies trailer. LOL, my bad. Hopefully, we'll get it this week. Thanks for the review!

**P.S.** Reviews are always welcomed! I love reading reviews! You can tell me your expectations in the story, some advice or opinions, and we can get it done! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day ahead! Adios!


	9. The Woodland Princes

**Chapter 09**

_**The Woodland Princes**_

* * *

_Oh, this is taking forever…_

Amroth prided himself for being patient; everyone in Lórinand thought so too. As a Prince, he was always accustomed to formalities and celebrations. But during the rare occasions that he was in Greenwood, the King Oropher was always enthusiastic about it. He wondered if the King actually liked visitors. Amdír and Oropher had been friends for as long as both kings could remember, thus, making their sons quite the friends as well. Ever since his arrival last night, Oropher proposed a feast for him. When Raithon and Thranduil reported about the incident, Oropher nodded but did not see if anyone was hurt.

He sighed and shifted from his seat by the window. Propping his chin beneath his palm, he looked out the window; the late autumn morning gave the Greenwood a brown and orange hue. It was a really good sight to behold, especially from his spot above the palace, and he smiled. The room offered to him befitted his position as prince, but he was restless and wanted someone else's company. Just after breakfast, he tried coaxing Thranduil about introducing him to the "dark lady" he saved last night. Much to Amroth's disappointment, Thranduil had shrugged him off but still promised to introduce him when "she felt better".

"Might as well go wandering around," Amroth told himself and got up. He slipped his silver jerkin and took his bow. "Thranduil shouldn't mind," he added and then left his quiet room.

* * *

Santien grumbled audibly. She was a healer, and her task was to stay in the infirmary. But no; Thranduil had to call her in the middle of the night and asked her if she could attend to Erynlith instead of the seriously injured Caladhir and Erestor. She declined his offer, no doubt, but due to Thranduil's constant pleads and some blackmails, Santien yielded and went to the room where Erynlith was temporarily confined. It was a small and cozy room, with curtains of green and lamps of gold.

"Good morning, tra-lay," Erynlith sang as the healer entered, her dark green skirts swirling at her swift movements. The auburn hair was braided in one thick plait that was over Santien's shoulder, and on her right ear was a bluebell from Raithon. She was followed by another healer, a dark-haired Silvan who politely nodded to Erynlith.

"You are _so_ bad at not hurting yourself, aren't you?" Santien said coldly and began sorting out her things. She was asked by Thranduil to treat the scratches on Erynlith's cheek from last night's incident, despite being only a minor wound.

Erynlith sighed in defeat. "Had to be done, tra-lo. You shouldn't have come. The scratches are healing anyway…" She ran a finger through her right cheek and tapped it. "See?"

"I'm only doing what I am asked," Santien said. She tossed a cloth drenched in herbal oil to Erynlith. "Besides, have you heard of the new visitor?"

The younger elf's face brightened. "Finally! Someone who makes sense! Tell me about him!" She clapped her hands cheerfully.

Santien's eyebrow rose. "I don't know much about him, really. All I know that he's always a guest of King Oropher. He lives in Lórinand."

"Oh," Erynlith muttered, pressing the warm cloth on her cheek. After a while, she handed the cloth back to Santien. "I'll go out now, okay? Call for me when Erestor wakes, and don't tell him about what happened, tra-la-la…"

"No, I can't let you—" But Erynlith was already out of her room. Santien sighed exasperatedly while her fellow healer only giggled softly.

* * *

Amroth's fingers tapped the table impatiently. His chin was propped under his palm again; he leaned back against the chair and on his other free hand, a cup of wine was thrust there by the King. He eyed the swirling liquor in his cup; it reflected his face in a crimson hue. He was never fond of wines, unlike the certain Elvenking and his subjects. Surely, wine was a delicate drink, usually soothing and relaxing. And he had tasted many wines in his lifetime; Lórinand had their own vineyard for winemaking. But it was still morning and the red liquor was already in his hand, waiting to be consumed.

He was supposed to be wandering the forest by now, had not the King's butler spotted him leaving the palace. The butler called him and offered him to join the King for his leisure time in the porch. And being the polite elf that he was, Amroth smiled and took the offer.

His grey eyes darted from his drink to the King. Oropher's silver hair was adorned with a crown of berries and leaves; on his fingers were gem-studded rings. A luxurious brooch was clasped about his neck. Beside the King and across the table was Thranduil, clad in silver robe and dark trousers. A silver circlet was upon his pale golden hair. It was almost hard to believe that this father and son were Sindar, for Sindarin elves usually had dark hair. Perhaps their family was an exception, along with Amroth's family, since he and his father Amdír shared Thranduil's golden hair.

"So, Prince Amroth," Oropher's voice snapped him back. Instantly, the Prince of Lórinand composed himself, not wanting to disgrace his name in front of other royalties. "I am grateful for your coming here. It has been a while since you graced Greenwood with your presence. But it is quiet disheartening that you visited in such terrible circumstances. I assume you are not, by any means, hurt? King Amdír will not appreciate if you are."

Amroth smiled politely and shook his head. "I am perfectly fine, King Oropher. My concern is the lady last night. Is she well?" He noticed how Thranduil's eyes narrowed at the mention of the lady.

"She will be fine," Thranduil sharply answered, sipping from his cup. "I have assigned an attendant to look after her. By lunchtime, if she feels like it, she may join us for lunch. How long do you intend to stay in Greenwood?"

"As long as I can get to meet her," said Amroth, looking for another reaction from Thranduil. As expected, the other prince looked grim.

"We will send someone to fetch her," King Oropher said. "I am quite worried about her as well."

Everything went on smoothly. After lunch, the three continued to the King's throne room. Amroth was beginning to wonder why he was even there in the first place. He could be at Lórinand by now, relaxing and spending time with his people. He sensed Thranduil's impatience; the Woodland Prince scanned the throne room, his eyes waiting for someone. And Amroth could tell who he was looking for.

Faint footsteps interrupted the silence between them. Amroth and Thranduil turned around, their eyes catching glimpse of the lady in her thin satin dress, her umber hair braided carelessly on the side. She was running toward the throne room. As quickly as Erynlith arrived, she blinked at the King and did not notice the presence of the two other elf princes. Someone had told her the Elvenking was to be found here. She felt rather silly for meeting the King _yesterday_ but was not able to recognize him at all. How shameful.

"My lord, I—" Her voice trailed off, meeting Amroth's eyes, and then Thranduil's. She smiled instantly, the brightest smile Thranduil could have seen from her, and she began to ascend the dais of the throne.

Thranduil stepped forward expectantly, his arms ready to receive her, rather embrace her, but he was stopped in his tracks when Amroth ran past him and embraced Erynlith _instead_. His eyes widened in surprise, confusion written all over his fair face as he watched his friend spun Erynlith around, both laughing. When she was set back on the ground, Amroth embraced her _again_. Why was Amroth embracing her? Why was Erynlith so happy to see him? Do they know each other? And why was Amroth's arm around Erynlith's waist? Thranduil glared and looked back at his father; Oropher only replied a useless shrug of his shoulders.

"King Oropher," Amroth called their attentions back, holding Erynlith firmly by the waist. "You should have told me sooner that your lady is Erynlith of Rivendell. It would make things better had I known sooner." He looked at Thranduil. "And I suppose Prince Thranduil should have told me as well."

Erynlith blinked and tugged Amroth's sleeve. "Prince?"

His little game was totally over. Thranduil suppressed an incoming sigh of exasperation. But his eyes still glinted with mischief as Erynlith's face was full with questions; her eyes searching an answer from Amroth. Amroth nodded, unsure of what to say, and was confused himself. Then, Erynlith turned to Thranduil, and he gave her his infamous smirk. He walked over to her and bowed politely, stretching a hand in greeting.

"Yes, my lady," he said, his voice smooth and deep. "I am afraid here ends our little game. I am the Prince of Greenwood the Great, Thranduil, son of Oropher; and not Lascalen, the elf guard, but whatever name you prefer is accepted, my lady." He mentally added a 'tra-la-la' in his mind. He forcefully took her hand into his and kissed the back of it. The look on his face was devious.

Erynlith blanched. _Prince of Greenwood? Thranduil?_ _So this arrogant and demanding elf was the King's son?_ No wonder they looked and talked the same. She could feel herself weakening by that very fact alone, suddenly overwhelmed that she was in the presence of _three_ Elven royalties: one king and two princes. And who was she? A traveler with two injured companions, with still an injured and bandaged right wrist, hair not-so-carefully combed for this glorious moment, and there she stood gaping at the grinning Thranduil. Her life was going smoothly.

As Thranduil straightened himself, he continued: "Now, then. Shall all the games be ended here? Why don't you tell me yours, little one?"

Her eyebrow twitched. No one called her that except Erestor. She glared, not caring if the King could see, and pulled Amroth down by the shoulders and whispered something in his ear. At length, the golden-haired Prince of Lórinand chuckled and nodded.

"There is nothing else I could tell you, _Prince_," Erynlith said, purposely leaving out her usual 'tra-la'. "You knew my secrets before I could even know them myself."

"Ah, that is a shame then," said Thranduil and looked at his father. "Shall we proceed to the hospitalities once more?"

Hearing that, Amroth winced and whispered down to her. "Let's go," he said, keeping an eye out on the father and son. "There is much that you could tell me, Eryn."

Erynlith laughed a little, and Thranduil's ears perked at hearing it. He looked back at them again; Amroth's arm was _still_ around Erynlith's waist, almost possessively. But she did not seem to mind though; rather, she was enjoying it. "My Lord Oropher," Thranduil heard Amroth say; "May I borrow Lady Erynlith for the time being? We have much to talk to."

The silver-haired Elvenking easily nodded his head; his blue eyes glinted as he watched Thranduil's reaction. "Go on ahead, Prince Amroth," Oropher said cordially. "You can take your time as long as you want."

And so, Amroth and Erynltih excused themselves with a little bow. Amroth nodded at Thranduil and pulled Erynlith by the hand, as if excited of leaving the throne room. Thranduil eyed them, glaring, as they disappeared behind the large wooden doors. Again, he gave his father an inquiring look. The King stepped down from his chair and gave his son a mischievous smirk. Thranduil furrowed his eyebrows; he had never felt so clueless in his life.

* * *

"You sly little…" Erynlith said, embracing Amroth once more. They laughed together and Amroth set her back onto her feet. "What are you doing here? And do you know that we're here?" There were so many questions she would like to ask him.

Amroth laughed. "My intuition was tingling last night. I thought it was you. To think that you've come as far as Greenwood… tell me, is Elrond up to something again?"

She shook her head. "Yeah, something like that…"

"But what did you mean by _we_?" He took her hand and led them out of the palace, now walking under the glades of the trees. He glanced down at her, noticing her reluctant response at the question. She looked pale and uncomfortable all of a sudden, and Amroth did not like that.

"Well, let's just say something occurred a few weeks ago, tra-lo, and we had to stay in Greenwood for a while, tra-la," she sang. When Amroth did not look convinced, she sighed and continued: "Erestor and I were supposed to deliver a message in Gondor, for the King. But in the High Pass we were waylaid and my companions are hurt really badly, tra-la-lay…"

Amroth stopped walking, ignoring the singsong, and turned to look at her. "Waylaid in the mountains? So that is why wargs are lingering in the forest? You were followed by wargs? And then what happened? Seriously, Erynlith, you can't just—"

"Alright, I get it!" She flailed her arms and laughed. "I am just so bad at these kinds of things, okay? Just don't tell Erestor what happened last night, please?"

"Why not?" But Amroth already knew why. Whenever he remembered why Erynlith chose to stay with Erestor rather than coming with King Amdír to Lórinand, jealousy welled-up within him. It was not the romantic kind of jealousy, more like a familial jealousy, he always told himself. He had expected for Erynlith to choose family members, but in this case, she turned to Erestor more as if they were related by blood. And it disappointed him always that she preferred being with him than being with anyone else.

She smiled weakly. "He's in a lot of physical pain right now. I don't want to add myself in his worry-list. You know how he is… always overacting on things that shouldn't be, tra-la-lay."

Amroth nodded and wrapped and arm around her shoulders, walking off again. "I won't tell him," he assured her. "But you should have told me sooner that you are here. How long will you stay here? I suggest you visit us in Lórinand. The King might be ticked off by now." They laughed. "He would want to have you there…"

"I am not sure," Erynlith said in a low voice, not wanting to disappoint him anymore. "I mean, of course, I would love to visit Lórinand but I am worried about Erestor's leg injury. It has been a week and he still cannot walk. He says he cannot feel his legs at all, tra-lo. I don't want to leave him here and I know he will not heal very soon, tra-la-la."

He nodded in understanding. "Was it a really bad injury? If you'll allow it, you and Erestor can travel back with me. We have the best healers in Lórinand that can attend to him day-in and day-out. You don't have to worry about wargs and all that. We have marchwardens guarding our borders. And everyone would welcome you."

"Yeah," Erynlith snorted. "Everyone, except your little goody two-shoes… what's her name again?"

"Nimrodel," Amroth answered sternly. "Her name is Nimrodel."

"Ah," said the minstrel, not amused in one bit. "Well, whatever her name is, she's still too conservative, and haughty, and…"

"Eryn!" The elf prince snapped angrily. "Remember who you are talking to! Nimrodel is _not_ haughty! For starters, she is kind and loving, and beautiful, very helpful and… and…"

"Haughty?"

"No!" Amroth was now glaring at her. It was rare for him to lose his regal composure, but it was always easy to do so. Mentioning his beloved Nimrodel was either a good thing or a bad thing; good if Nimrodel was complimented, and bad if otherwise. And at this moment, it was the latter. He continued glaring at Erynlith, trying to pierce his steely eyes on her insensitive self. Yet Erynlith only shrugged his glare off.

"Fine, tra-lil-lay." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "We both know she dislikes me for one reason or another, but let's pretend she doesn't, for your sake."

Finally, Amroth looked relieved. "Just… don't speak ill of her, okay?"

She nodded, but then, added: "But we also can't deny that she is haughty, okay?"

Amroth groaned in defeat.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** King Amdir arrives with his sass. #LorienDoubleA

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, we have little of Thranduil/Erynlith moment in this chap, but they did have the spotlight for like... few paragraphs? Yeah. I wanted another character relationship build-up and stuff. I'll be working on more of their scenes in the next few chapters. Cheers!

***Lingua Pura** - Oh, thank you very much! I'll do my best with Erynlith's characterization!

***Rousdower** - What, do you still feel hot? Lemme help. *throws ice cubes* Did it work, did it work? We have lots of ice cubes at home. LOL. I'd like to try your yogurt. Mmm, sounds yummy! Always thanks for the review!~

***DeLacus** - Since you reviewed in the _Long Expected Adventure_ and here, LOL, I'll answer your question. Yes, the Erynlith I mentioned in the other story is the very Erynlith we have here. I am trying to connect all my stories, you see? One story about Legolas, this one with Thranduil & Glorfindel, and hopefully, the Haldir/OC fic will join the universe! Thank you so much for always reviewing!

**P.S.** Will I be cursed if I said that I have another idea for a new Elrohir/OC fic? My imagination whirled again, and the plot and characters are set. All I need is all the time in the world to get those stories done very, very soon. Ugh. Sometimes I hate how my brain goes: "Hey, I have a new thing for you." *insert evil laugh here*

**P.P.S.** Please review and tell me what you think! They are always treasured!~


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